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SELECTIONS 


FROM 


GERMAN  LITERATURE. 


B.  B.  EDWARDS  AND  E.  A.  PARK. 

PROFESSORS,  THEOL.  SEM.  ANDOVER. 


ANDOVER : 

PUBLISHED  BY  GOULD,  NEWMAN  AND  SAXTON. 
NEW  YORK : 
CORNER  OF  FULTON  AND  NASSAU  STS. 

1839. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  Jo39 
BY  GOULD,  NEWMAN  &  SAXTON, 
in  the-  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

Introduction,  by  the  Translators,  1 — 27 

The  Life,  Character  and  Style  of  the  Apostle  Paul.    By  Prof. 

Tholuck. — P.  31—72 

Chap.  I.  Early  Life  of  the  Apostle,  31 

II.  Same  Subject  continued,   .36 

III.  Character  of  the  Apostle,  44 

IV.  Style  of  the  Apostle,  51 

Supplement  by  the  Translator,  58 

Notes  by  the  Translator,    .       .  62 

The  Tragical  Quality  in  the  Friendship  of  David  and  Jona- 
than.   By  Prof.  Frederic  Koster. — E  75—82 

Note  by  the  Translator,  82 

The  Gifts  of  Prophecy  and  of  Speaking  with  Tongues  in  the 

Primitive  Church.    By  Dr.  L.  J.  Rttckert. — E.        .       .  85—112 

Prefatory  Note  by  the  Translator,   85 

Introductory  Remark,   88 

Prophecy,   89 

Speaking  with  Tongues,   90 

Two  Preliminary  Considerations,   91 

Meaning  of  the  Gift  of  Tongues,   93 

Notices  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,   99 

Various  Hypotheses,   100 

Objections  against  the  Theory  of  Tongues,   102 

View  of  the  Passage  in  1  Corinthians,   106 

Conclusion,   110 

Note  by  the  Translator,   Ill 

Sermons  by  Prof.  Tholuck. — P  115 — 198 

Sermon  I.  The  Relation  of  Christians  to  the  Law,  ....  115 
II.  Gentleness  of  Christ,  125 

III.  Fruitless  Resolutions,     .......  134 

IV.  Earnest  of  Eternal  Life,  .^A .  143 
V.  The  Penitent  Thief,       .......  154 

VI.  The  Presence  of  God  with  his  Children,       .       .  .161 
Notes  by  the  Translator,  170 


iv 


CONTENTS. 


Sketch  of  Thoi.uck's  Life  and  Character. — P.     .       .       .  201 — 226 

The  Doctrine  of  the  Resurrection  of  the  Dead. — A  Commen- 
tary on  the  Fifteenth  Chapter  of  the  First  Epistle  to  the 
Corinthians.    By  Dr.  L.  J.  Rilckert.— E   229—278 

The  Resurrection  of  the  Body.  By  J.  P.  Lange.— E.  .  .  279—292 
i    Notes  by  tfi^fcanslator,  ' .      .  •*>"      '  .293 

Life  of  Plato.— By  W.  G.  Tennemann.— E  311—367 

Chap.  1.  Birth  and  Education,  .£»  .     frflT   ^V*  .    >..  311" 

II.  Foreign  Travels,        .       ...       .      .       .       .  .331 

III.  First  Residence  in  Syracuse,  339 

IV.  School  of  Plato  at  Athens,  342 

V.  Second  Residence  in  Syracuse,  346 

VI.  Third  Residence  in  Syracuse,  352 

VII.  Vindication  of  Plato's  Character,  357 

VIII.  Last  Days  of  Plato,  363 

Sketch  of  the  Biographers  of  Plato  and  of  the  Commentators 

upon  his  writings.— E   371 — 386 

The  Sinless  Character  of  Jesus.    By  Dr.  C.  Ullmann. — P.     38S— 472 

Prefatory  Note  by  the  Translator,   389 

Section  I.  General  Principles  of  Reasoning  in  this  Treatise,           .  390 

II.  Same  Subject  Continued,   394 

III.  Testimony  in  favor  of  Christ,   397 

IV.  Characteristics  of  the  Saviour,               •  402 
V.  Objections  to  the  Testimony  in  favor  of  Christ,       .  409 

VI.  Works  and  Influence  of  the  Saviour,       ....  416 

VII.  Objections  against  Christ's  Character,  ....  426 
V 1 1 1 .  Metaphysical  Difficulties  relating  to  the  Saviour's  Sin- 

lessness,   I  (  '  .       .  436 

IX.  Concluding  Instructions  from  the  Subject,      .       .       .  445 
Notes  by  the  Translator,  454 


ERRATA. 

Want  of  room  prevents  an  intended  notice  of  several  errors,  some  of  them  errors  of  the 
press,  on  pp.  115,  116,  120,  121,  122,  123,  125,  133,  135,  141,  146,  159,  163.  After  carefully 
comparing  pp.  115 — 170  with  the  original,  the  translator  discovered  that,  in  his  wish  to  give 
a  free  version,  he  had  deviated,  in  several  sentences,  too  far  from  the  text ;  not  far  enough 
however  to  affect  materially  the  train  of  thought.  The  errors  may  be  easily  detected. 
Page  133,  line  2  from  bottom,  read  invite,  for  smite.  Page  205,  line  7,  from  bottom,  read 
"  judge  at  Halle,  but  now  supreme  judge." 


INTRODUCTION. 


There  are  two  great  tendencies  in  human  nature  of  which  Plato 
and  Aristotle  are  commonly  regarded  as  the  representatives.  One 
of  these  tendencies  or  characteristics  is  indicated,  in  its  various  forms, 
by  the  epithets  speculative,  theoretical,  ideal,  abstract,  doctrinal, 
subjective.  The  terms  which  are  employed  in  describing  the  other 
tendency  are  practical,  experimental,  concrete,  actual,  objective. 

Plato,  though  not  deficient  in  acuteness  and  subtlety,  was  medita- 
tive and  profound.  As  the  author  of  the  celebrated  ideal  philosophy, 
he  supposed  that  certain  ideas  existed  in  the  Divine  mind  from 
eternity,  to  which  God  gave  a  figure  or  form  when  he  created  the 
world.  He  ascribed  a  Divine  original  to  the  human  soul.  True 
happiness,  according  to  Plato,  consists  in  the  investigation  of  truth 
and  in  the  subjection  of  the  passions.  Virtue  is  the  perfection  and 
health  of  the  soul.  It  is  manifested  in  the  various  forms  of  wisdom, 
righteousness,  temperance,  valor.  Plato  had  a  living  power  of  im- 
agination, a  loftiness  of  thought,  together  with  the  ability  to  clothe 
his  conceptions  in  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful  forms.  Under  his 
pen  the  most  abstract  ideas  assumed  the  character  of  life  and  reality. 
Spirit,  vigor,  warmth  pervade  his  writings.1 

1  See  Seholl,  Geschichte  der  Griech.  Litt.  I.  480.  The  moral  character 
of  Plato's  great  master  is  yet  occasionally  assailed  with  considerable  vio- 
lence. The  charges  against  Socrates  originated  partly  from  calumny, 
which  is  always  thrown  out  by  the  vicious  against  those  who  are  more 
virtuous  than  themselves;  and  partly  from  a  misapprehension  of  some 
Socratico-Platonic  expressions.  For  instance,  when  Socrates  said,  in  his 
last  moments,  that  he  "  owed  a  cock  to  iEsculapius,"  any  one,  who  regards 
his  well  known  habit  of  irony,  may  suppose  that  he  was  not  in  earnest ; 
that  be  understood  by  iEsculapius  health,  and  intimated  by  this  form  of  ex- 
pression that  he  had  almost  recovered  from  his  long  disease.  In  respect  to 
another  charge — lhat  of  sensuality — we  have  the  explicit  testimony  of 
Xenophon,  that  physical  love  was  directly  excluded  by  Socrates.  Alcibiades, 
in  Plato's  Dialogue,  declares  that  Socrates  was  unsusceptible  of  every  lower 
kind  of  love,  being  devoted  to  spiritual  love  alone.  If  Socrates  had  been 
1 


2 


INTRODUCTION, 


Aristotle  is  the  father  of  natural  history.  The  philosophical 
terminology  and  many  of  the  existing  scientific  definitions  are  traced 
to  his  pen.  He  formed  a  system  of  logic  with  wonderful  complete- 
ness, and  also  gave  fundamental  laws  to  rhetoric  and  poetry. 
Psychology  owes  to  him  its  philosophical  form.  His  style  of 
wi  lling  is  simple  and  exact.  He  never  sacrifices  sense  to  sound. 
He  discards  the  fable,  the  allegory  and  the  various  figures  of  speech 
in  which  Plato  abounds.  He  is  always  serene,  tranquil,  modest, 
though  occasionally  obscure  in  consequence  of  his  brevity,  or  his  use 
of  uncommon  words.  He  founded  his  system  on  reason  and  ex- 
periment, entirely  rejecting  the  aid  of  the  imagination.  He  em- 
braced all  the  branches  of  human  knowledge  which  were  attainable 
in  his  time,  and  gave  to  them  order  and  a  scientific  form.  He 
had  collected  so  large  a  library  that  Plato  named  his  dwelling,  "  the 
house  of  the  reader.11  It  has  been  said,  probably  with  truth,  that  in 
the  quality  of  mere  dry  intellect,  Aristotle  is  at  the  head  of  the  race. 

Plato  is  the  leader  of  another  series.  In  imagination,  feeling, 
originality,  in  what  may  be  termed  the  spiritual  powers,  he  is  among 
the  greatest  of  the  children  of  men — the  Homer  of  philosophers. 
"  Plato,11  says  Goethe,  "  is,  in  relation  to  this  world,  like  a  blessed 
spirit,  who  chooses  for  a  time  to  take  up  his  abode  here.  His  ob- 
ject is  not  so  much  to  become  acquainted  with  the  world  as  kindly 
to  communicate  to  it  that  which  he  brings  with  him,  and  which  is  so 
necessary  to  it.  He  mounts  upward,  with  longing  to  partake  again 
of  his  original.  All  that  he  utters  has  reference  to  one  single  prin- 
ciple— perfect,  good,  true,  beautiful ;  the  love  of  which  he  studies  to 
enkindle  in  every  bosom.  Whatever  of  earthly  science  he  acquires 
in  particulars,  melts,  yea  we  might  say,  evaporates  in  his  method, 
in  his  discourse.  Aristotle,  on  the  contrary,  is,  in  relation  to  the 
world,  like  a  man,  a  master-builder.  He  is  once  here,  and  he  must 
work  and  build.  He  inquires  about  the  soil ;  but  no  further  than  till 
he  finds  a  firm  foundation.  From  that  point  to  the  centre  of  the 
earth,  all  the  rest  is  indifferent  to  him.    He  marks  out  a  vast  circuit 

guilty  in  this  particular,  would  not  Aristophanes  have  trumpeted  it  ?  Be- 
fore we  believe  all  which  has  been  uttered  against  some  of  the  best  men  of 
antiquity,  we  want  better  authority  than  the  story-teller  Athenaeus.  We 
do  not  vindicate  everything  which  Socrates  did  or  said.  We  may  contend 
that  he  would  not  be  admitted  into  virtuous  society  now.  But  would  many 
of  the  pious  patriarchs  of  Scripture  on  the  same  principle?  See  Tholuck  in 
Bibl.  Repos.  II.  453,  and  Schweighauser,  XII.  161. 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

for  his  building,  collects  his  materials  from  every  quarter,  arranges 
them,  piles  them  one  upon  another,  and  thus  rises  in  regular  pyra- 
midical  form  into  the  air ;  while  Plato  shoots  up  towards  heaven 
like  an  obelisk,  yea  like  a  pointed  flame."1 

These  eminent  Greeks  are  not  without  their  representatives  at  the 
present  day.  Plato  reappears  in  the  German  ;  Aristotle  in  the 
Anglo-Saxon.  The  former  lives  in  an  ideal  realm.  He  is  given  to 
speculation.  He  is  lost  in  the  depths  of  his  own  spirit.  Nothing  is 
profound  or  subjective  enough  for  him.  The  Oriental  mysticism  is 
seen  again  in  the  centre  of  Europe.  The  Gnostic  finds  a  home  on 
the  banks  of  the  Elbe.  The  German  is  not  satisfied  with  the 
obvious  meaning  of  a  proposition.  He  must  look  behind  or  below  it 
for  something  more  fundamental,  for  something  wrapped  in  deeper 
mystery.  In  struggling  to  reach  a  lofty  and  unattainable  ideal,  he 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  actual  and  possible.  Plain 
sense,  obvious  truth,  are  cast  out  as  too  vulgar.  A  personal  God, 
with  definite,  individual  attributes  is  not  to  his  taste.  He  meditates 
and  conjectures  till  he  loses  himself  in  barren  generalities  or  pan- 
theistic dreams.  In  his  exclusive  tendency  he  perverts  Plato  him- 
self. That  great  thinker  did  not  overlook  practical  utility.  His 
repeated  and  hazardous  journies  into  Sicily,  as  well  as  many  other 
events  of  his  life,  are  a  proof  of  his  attention  to  the  actual  condition 
of  his  fellow  creatures.  His  aim  was  the  completeness,  the  symme- 
try, the  perfection  of  the  human  soul.  He  abhorred  everything 
partial  or  exclusive.  Dr.  Ritter  terms  his  republic  a  '  University.' 
Still  the  general  position  is  undoubtedly  true  that  the  Germans  are 
the  disciples  of  the  Academy.  Their  faults  are  of  the  ideal  kind. 
Their  mistakes  are  not  those  of  action.  Of  the  errors  of  the  experi- 
mentalist they  are  guiltless.2 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Englishman  and  American  are  thoroughly 
Peripatetic ;  they  are  ever  in  motion.  They  are  undoubting  be- 
lievers in  the  sensible  world.  In  rejecting  its  existence,  Berkeley  has 
hardly  a  living  disciple.  In  demolishing  his  system,  Dr.  Reid  per- 
formed a  work  of  supererogation.  Nothing  could  be  more  harmless 
than  Berkeley's  notion.    The  corn  law  or  the  woollen  trade  have 

1  Goethe,  Farbenlehre  II.  140.  Bibl.  Repos.  III.  687. 

2  Of  course  the  general  tendency,  the  national  characteristic  is  here 
described.  Prominent  exceptions  doubtless  exist.  Of  this  the  Memoirs  of 
the  Berlin  Academy  are  a  sufficient  proof. 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

infinitely  greater  charms  for  the  countrymen  of  the  Minute  Philoso- 
pher than  the  soul  of  man.  The  latter  cannot  be  weighed  on  a 
counter,  or  be  shipped  off  to  the  Baltic  by  steam.  No  men  make 
better  surveyors  of  land  than  the  Anglo-Saxons;  none  can  steer  a 
ship  like  them.  In  the  physical  world,  from  Spitzbergen  to  the 
utmost  South,  they  are  lords  of  the  ascendant.  This  practical, 
Aristotelian  tendency  pervades  all  things,  science,  jurisprudence, 
politics,  education,  religion.  Everywhere  the  questions  are  sound- 
ing, Where  has  he  been  ?  Whither  is  he  bound  ?  What  is  the  value 
of  that  article  ?  Which  school-book  or  school-teacher  or  minister  is 
the  cheapest  ?  We  have  heard  even  of  clergymen  who  estimated 
the  conversion  of  a  congregation  of  immortal  souls  at  so  much  a 
head— who  were  willing  to  assess  a  sort  of  poll-tax  on  salvation.  In 
science  we  have  no  great  discoverers.  We  have  practical  philoso- 
phers— scientific  explorers — men  who  can  divide  off  and  parcel  out 
to  good  advantage  the  treasures  which  have  been  accumulated  in 
past  times.  It  is  no  disproof  of  our  general  position  that  many 
eminent  names  might  be  mentioned  in  physical  science.  We  love 
the  outward.    Our  home  is  in  the  visible. 

Here  and  there,  indeed,  an  individual  may  be  found  who  is 
weary  of  this  ceaseless  stir,  of  this  insane  eagerness  after  the 
perishable  and  the  transient.  His  ears  are  pained  by  the  incessant 
clamors  of  buyers  and  sellers.  He  longs  for  repose,  for  calm  medita- 
tion, for  a  secure  retreat  from  his  jostling  and  inquisitive  contempo- 
raries. Such  men,  however,  are  few  and  far  between.  The  ten- 
dency to  bustle  and  agitation,  to  digging  and  hoarding  is  widely  pre- 
dominant. The  epithets  acute,  practical,  quick-witted,  impatient, 
sharp-sighted,  delineate  the  Saxon  races  on  the  two  continents, 
or  rather  on  the  four  continents,  and  the  islands  of  almost  every  sea. 

In  thus  characterizing  the  English  mind,  we  only  repeat  the  gen- 
eral verdict  of  intelligent  Englishmen.  "Our  utilitarian  practical- 
ity"  says  a  late  writer,  "  is  a  theme  that  has  often  been  discussed. 
It  is  impossible  to  contrast  the  condition  of  any  one  branch  of  sci- 
ence or  literature  in  England  with  its  condition  on  the  continent,  and 
especially  in  Germany,  without  becoming  sensible  of  the  all-perva- 
ding influence  of  this  tendency  of  the  British  character/'1  "  What- 
ever the  causes  may  be,"  says  the  Bishop  of  London,  "  the  fact 
cannot  be  denied,  that  we  have  comparatively  few  really  classical 
1  For.  Quart.  Rev.  No.  44.  p.  238. 


INTRODUCTION. 

scholars,  few  who  enter  deeply  into  the  study  of  the  Greek  language, 
into  the  examination  of  its  structure,  of  its  formations,  of  its  analo- 
gies.'"1 

An  interesting  question  here  arises.  What  occasions  this  marked 
difference  between  the  Germans  and  the  English?  They  were 
originally  one.  They  belong  to  the  same  stock,  and  their  languages 
to  the  same  family.  They  are  alike  in  the  substantial  qualities  of 
mental  and  moral  character.  Why  the  prominent  existing  dissimi- 
larity ?  England  has  not  been  always  what  she  is  now.  Once  the 
English  spirit  deeply  sympathized  with  the  Platonic.  A  long  roll  of 
revered  names  might  be  unfolded  that  all  of  us  have  been  wont 
to  love  and  admire. 

A  principal  cause  is  unquestionably  geographical  position.  Great 
Britain  is  an  island,  and  she  has  immense  colonial  possessions  in 
every  quarter  of  the  earth.  The  United  States  have  a  very  extend- 
ed sea-coast,  with  numerous  harbors  and  large  rivers.  We  have 
thus  every  incitement  to  spread  ourselves  over  a  large  surface.  The 
call  to  physical  effort  is  loud  and  unceasing.  On  the  contrary  the 
Germans  are  shut  up  in  the  centre  of  Europe.  Almost  everything 
has  conspired  to  keep  them  at  home.  We  are  the  couriers  and  the 
carriers  of  the  whole  earth.  The  Germans  are  the  purveyors  of 
mind.  They  carry  on  a  commerce  of  intellect.  They  are  psycho- 
logical adventurers.  While  we  are  making  ships,  they  are  manu- 
facturing theories.  While  we  are  harpooning  the  monster  of  the 
northern  ocean,  they  are  defining  the  limits  of  old  and  new  Platon- 
ism,  or  demonstrating  that  the  chorus  in  the  Agamemnon  of  iEschy- 
lus  consisted  of  twelve  old  men,  and  not  of  fifteen. 

Another  cause  is  found  in  the  nature  of  the  governments.  The 
British  government  has  been  for  a  long  time  essentially  republican. 
Freedom  of  thought  and  of  speech  is  unfettered.  The  political 
world  has  opened  a  thousand  avenues  for  practical  effort  which  have 
been  eagerly  entered.  "  A  few  minor  minds  may  peck  with  lauda- 
ble industry  at  the  luxuriant  fruitage  of  German  erudition  ;  but  our 
great  intellects,  our  original  discoverers,  our  secret  miners  and  pub- 
lic heaven-stormers  are  all  in  the  senate."2  It  is  not  necessary  to 
say  how  different  is  the  state  of  things  in  Germany.  An  iron-hand- 
ed government  there  controls  everything.  Liberty  means  what  the 
royal  vocabulary  makes  it  mean.    There  are  no  Burkes  nor  Chat- 

1  London  Quart.  Rev.  No.  101.  8  For.  Quart.  Rev. 


6 


INTRODUCTION. 


hams.  There  is  no  Junius  nor  Wilkes  to  set  at  defiance  the  powers 
that  be.  The  great  engine  of  freedom — the  newspaper  press — is 
an  insignificant  affair.  The  mind  is  necessarily  turned  inward. 
Meditation,  reverie,  or  prying  investigations  into  old  and  distant  ob- 
jects become  a  fixed  habit.  One  mode  of  action  being  effectually 
barricaded,  the  soul  breaks  out  with  violence  into  another. 

An  additional  occasion  of  the  difference  in  question  lies  in  the  an- 
tagonist systems  of  philosophy.  In  the  British  world,  Bacon,  Locke 
and  Paley  have  long  been  the  masters.  The  end  which  Bacon  propos- 
ed to  himself  was  fruit ;  it  was  the  relief  of  man's  estate  ;  it  was  to 
enrich  human  life  with  new  inventions  and  powers.  Philanthropy, 
he  says,  was  so  fixed  in  his  mind  that  it  could  not  be  removed. 
Wherever  Locke  has  been  read,  men  have  not  fallen  into  the  errors 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  He  has  promoted  anything  rather  than  the 
building  of  cloisters  or  the  re-publication  of  Plato.  The  influence 
of  Paley,  perhaps,  has  been  equally  great  with  that  of  Locke  ;  it 
certainly  has  been  entirely  correspondent.  The  Germans,  however, 
have  launched  forth  to  the  other  extreme.  It  is  said  that  Kant's  sys- 
tem is  in  ruins  ;  but  Kant's  influence  is  not.  Other  systems,  it  has 
been  observed,  have  rolled  over  his,  and  have  been  themselves  in 
turn  displaced.  Yet  all  these  systems  have  conspired  to  one  general 
effect.  They  have  all  been  at  antipodes  to  Locke  and  Paley,  they 
have  all  made  war  upon  the  sensual  and  the  outward.  The  basis  of 
every  theory  has  been  laid  upon  the  internal  and  the  independent 
powers  of  the  human  soul.  Hence  the  German  language  is  so  rich 
in  all  the  terms  which  are  applied  to  spiritual  phenomena. 

Another  powerful  cause  is  the  modern  revival  of  Christianity  and 
the  awakened  spirit  of  missionary  enterprise  which  have  pervaded 
England  and  the  United  States  far  more  than  they  have  Germany. 
Multitudes  are  running  to  and  fro.  Almost  every  land  is  beginning 
to  feel  the  practical  beneficence  of  those  who  speak  the  English 
tongue.  While  the  Germans  are  speculating  nobly,  and  erecting 
monuments  to  their  patient  industry,  to  their  vast  and  learned  re- 
search, to  their  metaphysical  acumen,  the  Englishman  and  American 
may  point  for  their  memorials  to  Howard's  grave  at  Cherson,  and 
further  on  to  Martyn's  at  Tocat ;  to  the  raised  letters  which  are  giv- 
ing eyes  to  the  blind — to  the  Bible  Society,  sublimer  than  all  the 
proud  achievements  of  the  scholars  who  rise  up  by  thousands  in  the 
universities  of  the  continent. 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 


We  may  remark,  however,  that  there  is  no  good  reason  for 
these  two  diametrically  opposite  tendencies.  Men  were  not  made 
merely  for  action  or  speculation.  In  following  either  course  ex- 
clusively, they  sin  against  the  nature  which  God  has  given  them. 
We  have  no  cause  to  laugh  at  the  airy  course  of  the  spiritual  phi- 
losopher. We  need  not  shrug  our  shoulders  in  proud  self-com- 
placency when  we  talk  of  German  mysticism.  We  are  not  called 
upon  to  identify  every  form  of  nonsense,  which  appears  among  us, 
with  the  name  of  transcendentalism.  We  are  not  authorized  to 
term  every  outbreak  of  error  in  Saxony  or  Switzerland  with  the  im- 
posing title  of  the  newest  fashion  in  German  theology.1  We  may 
well  spare  such  demonstrations  of  our  ignorance  and  self-conceit. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Germans  might  well  copy  our  excellent  prac- 
tical habits.  An  infusion  into  the  German  mind  of  the  old,  sound, 
substantial  English  sense  would  be  of  inestimable  worth.  They 
ought  to  read  Dr.  D wight's  Sermons,  and  the  works  of  Dr.  Paley. 
They  should  become  familiar  with  such  men  as  Thomas  Scott  and 
Claudius  Buchanan.  John  Newton's  Letters  and  Cowper's  poetry 
would  do  good  service  among  the  followers  of  Fichte  and  Hegel. 
They  say  that  we  are  incapable  of  understanding  their  writings,  that 
we  scorn  that  which  we  have  not  mind  enough  to  understand.  With 
equal  truth,  we  might  affirm  that  they  do  not  understand  us.  They 
have  cultivated  one  tendency  to  such  an  extent,  that  they  cannot  see 
the  substantial  excellencies  of  a  writer  like  Dr.  Paley.  If  we 
have  neglected  the  reason  and  the  imagination,  they  have  underval- 
ued the  sense  and  the  practical  understanding. 

It  is  the  wisdom,  therefore,  of  both  parties  to  adopt  a  more  en- 
larged course  of  thinking  and  action.  It  would  do  our  young  scho- 
lars no  harm  to  read  the  Dialogues  of  Plato — not  so  much  for  any 
philosophical  theory  which  they  contain,  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of 
any  immediate  practical  utility,  as  to  become  familiar  with  the  accu- 
rate distinctions  which  he  makes  on  the  great  questions  in  morals 
and  religion  that  he  discusses,  and  especially  to  become  imbued 
with  his  noble  spirit — to  partake  in  his  lofty  aspirations,  and  to  be 
thankful  for  that  better  light  that  we  enjoy,  but  which  was  denied 
him.  There  is  much  in  German  literature  of  the  highest  value 
which  we  might  well  transfer  to  our  language.  How  little  we  know 
of  the  great  geography  of  Bitter  ?  How  contented  are  our  book- 
makers to  go  on  year  by  year  copying  Malte  Brun  ?    What  do  we 

1  See  a  late  Letter  of  Dr.  Malan  of  Geneva. 


s 


INTRODUCTION. 


know  of  the  profound  historians  Leo,  Luden,  Schlosser,  Wachler, 
Ranke,  Von  Hammer — none  of  them  neologists  ?  A  long  list  of 
writers  in  other  departments  we  might  name,  but  it  is  unnecessary. 

In  the  preceding  considerations,  one  reason  may  be  discovered  for 
the  appearance  of  the  present  volume.1  The  translators  have  cher- 
ished the  hope  that  something  might  be  done  to  break  down  the  wall 
of  national  prejudice,  and  to  correct  an  exclusive  tendency  which 
cannot  but  be  injurious.  They  have  wished  to  contribute  something 
to  aid  the  better  feeling,  which  is  beginning  to  spring  up  between 
those  who  speak  the  German  and  the  English  tongues,  and  to  pro- 
mote that  brotherly  intercourse  which  is  so  becoming  and  which 
may  be  made  so  useful  to  both  parties. 

There  are  several  additional  considerations,  which  have  influen- 
ced the  translators  of  the  present  volume,  in  thus  appearing  before 
the  public.  One  of  these  is,  the  well  known  tendency  of  acquaint- 
ance with  foreign  authors  to  enlarge  and  liberalize  the  mind.  The 
man  who  never  travelled  out  of  his  native  county,  is  apt  to  be  a  man 
of  prejudices.  A  new  language  is  to  the  inward  being  what  a  new 
eye  is  to  the  outward  ;  one  sees  with  it  what  he  could  not  have  seen 
without  it ;  and  by  examining  such  developments  of  humanity  as  are 
not  found  among  his  own  kindred,  he  learns  to  value  substance  more, 
and  form  less.  Creatures  of  custom  as  we  are,  we  are  prone  to 
look  upon  everything  habitual  as  right  of  course,  and  everything  un- 
common as  wrong.  Unfashionable  is  another  name  for  monstrous. 
When  a  blind  adherence  to  the  standard  of  present  fashion  is  limit- 
ed to  matters  of  secular  concern,  it  narrows  the  mind  ;  but  when  it 
extends  to  theology,  it  cripples  the  very  sentiments  which  should  be 
most  expanded.  It  makes  men  partizans,  when  they  ought  to  be 
philanthropists.  The  Bible  is  one  of  the  freest  books  ever  written. 
Its  style  is  as  unlike  that  of  our  scholastic  systems,  as  the  costume 
of  the  oriental  is  unlike  the  pinching  garb  of  the  Englishman.  It 
never  intended  that  men  should  abridge  its  freeness,  and  press  it 
forcibly  into  the  mould  of  any  human  compend.    We  approve  of 


1  We  may  here  mention  that  another  volume  is  in  the  course  of  transla- 
tion which  will  be  entirely  devoted  to  Plato  and  Aristotle.  It  will  include 
the  Life  of  Aristotle  by  Dr.  A.  Stahr  of  Halle,  and  a  Comparison  of  Plato- 
nism  with  Christianity  by  Prof.  Baur  of  Tubingen.  It  will  also  contain  an 
estimate  of  the  character  of  both  these  philosophers,  with  illustrations  from 
the  recent  commentators  upon  their  writings. 


INTRODUCTION. 


9 


creeds  :  they  are  useful,  needful ;  but  there  is  a  difference — is  there 
not — between  respecting  and  adoring  them.    We  prefer  to  see  men 
shaping  their  creeds  so  as  to  suit  the  Bible,  rather  than  to  see  them 
shaping  the  Bible  so  as  to  suit  their  creeds.    There  is  reason  to  fear, 
that  while  the  language  of  our  confessions  of  faith  is  in  some  cases 
too  pliant,  bending  to  interpretations  that  are  subversive  of  each 
other,  it  is  in  other  cases  too  stiff  and  strait ;  giving  no  heed  to  some 
valuable  modifications  of  thought,  which  reason  approves,  and  al- 
lowing no  place  for  some  statements  of  inspiration,  which  always 
look  somewhat  strange  alongside  of  the  creed,  and  which  can  be  dis- 
posed of  the  most  satisfactorily  by  the  divine  who  is  most  of  a  law- 
yer.   It  is  to  be  feared,  for  instance,  that  some  special  pleading  is 
required  for  such  an  explanation  of  Matt.  11:  21.  Luke  10:  13,  as 
will  make  them  harmonize  with  the  inflexible  language  of  certain 
compends  in  reference  to  the  doctrine  of  human  passivity  in  regen- 
eration.   It  is  to  be  feared,  that  there  is  a  scholastic  mode  of  stating 
the  doctrine  of  the  saints'  perseverance,  which  can  be  shown  to  be  in 
keeping  with  the  inspired  entreaties  against  apostasy,  by  none  but 
very  ingenious  and  witty  men.    It  is  to  be  apprehended,  that  many, 
influenced  more  by  the  narrowness  of  a  creed  than  the  freeness  of 
the  Bible,  when  they  repeat  such  passages  as  Heb.  6:  4 — 6.  10:  26 
— 32.  2  Pet.  2:  20 — 22,  secretly  look  upon  them  as  a  kind  of  ma- 
noeuvre, rather  than  as  an  expression  of  honest  fear.    Has  not  the 
reader  himself  been  haunted  with  something  like  this  suspicion  of 
artifice,  even  when  he  dared  not  breathe  it  to  his  own  conscience  ? 
and  have  not  these  passages,  when  invested  with  certain  technical 
explanations,  seemed  to  be  in  a  strait-jacket,  or  at  least  not  exactly 
at  their  ease  ? 

Now  in  measuring  our  faith  by  the  symbols  of  any  single  sect,  we 
are  often  obliged  to  cut  off  some  positive  instructions,  direct  or  indi- 
rect, of  the  Bible.  Robert  Hall's  Preface  to  Antinomianism  Unmask- 
ed, contains  several  invaluable  hints  on  this  topic.  "  When  religious 
parties  have  been  long  formed,"  he  says,  "  a  certain  technical  phrase- 
ology, invented  to  designate  more  exactly  the  peculiarities  of  the  res- 
pective systems,  naturally  grows  up.  WThat  custom  has  sanctioned,  in 
process  of  time  becomes  law ;  and  the  slightest  deviation  from  the 
consecrated  diction  comes  to  be  viewed  with  suspicion  and  alarm. 
Now  the  technical  language,  appropriated  to  the  expression  of  the 
Calvinistic  system  in  its  nicer  shades,  however  justifiable  in  itself, 

2 


10 


INTRODUCTION. 


has,  by  its  perpetual  recurrence,  narrowed  the  vocabulary  of  religion, 
and  rendered  obsolete  many  modes  of  expression  which  the  sacred 
writers  indulge  without  scruple.  The  latitude,  with  which  they  ex- 
press themselves  on  various  subjects,  has  been  gradually  relinquish- 
ed ;  a  scrupulous  and  systematic  cast  of  diction  has  succeeded  to  the 
manly  freedom  and  noble  negligence  they  were  accustomed  to  dis- 
play ;  and  many  expressions,  employed  without  hesitation  in  Scrip- 
ture, are  rarely  found,  except  in  the  direct  form  of  quotation,  in  the 
mouth  of  a  modern  Calvinist.  In  addition  to  this,  nothing  is  more 
usual  than  for  the  zealous  abettors  of  a  system,  with  the  best  inten- 
tions, to  magnify  the  importance  of  its  peculiar  tenets  by  hyperboli- 
cal exaggerations,  calculated  to  identify  them  with  the  fundamental 
articles  of  faith.  Thus  the  Calvinistic  doctrines1  have  often  been 
denominated  by  divines  of  deservedly  high  reputation,  the  doctrines 
of  grace ;  implying,  not  merely  their  truth,  but  that  they  constitute 
the  very  essence  and  marrow  of  the  gospel.  Hence  persons  of  lit- 
tle reflection  have  been  tempted  to  conclude,  that  the  zealous  incul- 
cation of  these,  comprehends  nearly  the  whole  system  of  revealed 
truth  ;  or  as  much  of  it,  at  least,  as  is  of  vital  importance  ;  and  that 
no  danger  whatever  can  result  from  giving  them  the  greatest  possible 
prominence.  But  the  transition  from  a  partial  exhibition  of  truth  to 
the  adoption  of  positive  error  is  a  most  natural  one ;  and  he  who 
commences  with  consigning  certain  important  doctrines  to  oblivion 
will  generally  end  in  perverting  or  denying  them."2 

Now  there  is  a  strong  tendency  in  the  members  of  every  sect,  to 
narrow  down  their  views  to  the  standard  of  a  sectarian  creed. 
Hence  the  necessity  that  good  men  of  different  denominations  should 
have  frequent  interchange  of  thought  and  feeling.  And  there  is  a  strong 
tendency  in  the  inhabitants  of  one  land  to  exalt  certain  terms,  which 
their  fathers  used,  into  tests  of  orthodoxy,  and  to  circumscribe  the 
teachings  of  the  Bible,  within  a  few  national  shibboleths.  Hence 
the  importance  of  looking  away  from  our  own  land,  and  seeing 
phases  that  truth  assumes  elsewhere.  We  shall  thus  find,  that 
modes  of  exhibition,  which  we  have  thought  essential  to  a  sound  the- 
ology, are  discountenanced  by  sound  theologians  who  live  under 

1  [The  "  Calvinistic  doctrines"  are  here  spoken  of  as  distinguished  from 
the  Lutheran,  or  other  evangelical  systems. — Eds  ] 

5  See  Hall's  Works,  Vol.  II.  pp.  458—466.  See  also  Cecil's  Remains,  p. 
If)],  Andover  Ed. 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

other  skies ;  and  that  modes  which  we  have  always  regarded  as  pre- 
cursors, if  not  representatives  of  fatal  error,  are  regarded  by  them  as 
the  safeguards  of  truth.  We  are  alarmed  at  their  peculiarities,  and 
they  are  equally  alarmed  at  ours.  We  are  wondering  at  them,  and 
they  are  amazed  at  our  wonder.  All  this  is  a  lesson  to  us.  It  teaches 
us,  that  the  spirit  of  truth  will  live,  when  any  particular  body  of  it  has 
died.  It  teaches  us,  that  no  mere  modes  are  the  articles  of  a  stand- 
ing or  a  falling  church.  It  teaches  us,  that  wise  men  and  good 
men  have  philosophized  differently,  and  yet  have  had  one  Lord,  one 
faith,  one  baptism.  We  learn  from  it,  that  those  two  disciples  of 
the  Wittemberg  reformer  were  more  earnest  in  contending  for  the 
faith,  than  wise  in  determining  what  it  was,  when  they  began  to 
beat  each  other,  because  one  avowed  himself  a  Martinist,  while  his 
combatant  had  been  brought  up  a  Lutheran.  We  learn  from  it, 
that  if  men  will  unite  in  one  theology,  they  may  be  allowed  to  come 
to  it  through  whatever  by-paths  of  philosophy  seem  best  to  them.  It 
is  well,  if  we  be  full-grown,  to  see  as  many  different  faces  as  we 
can  ;  to  hear  as  many  different  voices  ;  so  we  shall  learn  that  hu- 
manity is  everywhere  one  and  the  same,  though  its  aspects  are  often 
various.  Men  from  the  northward  will  believe  that  water  freezes, 
though  the  king  of  Siam  may  declare  such  belief  heretical.  As 
men  do  not  look  alike,  nor  talk  alike,  so  they  do  not,  in  all  respects, 
philosophize  alike.  They  never  have,  and  perhaps  never  will.  So  long 
as  their  temperaments  vary,  there  will  be  variety  in  their  theorizings. 
It  is  an  old  "  dilemma"  of  the  schoolmen,  "  there  are  two  things 
which  we  ought  not  to  fret  about ;  what  we  can  help,  and  what  we 
can  not :"  now  we  think  that  mere  speculative,  as  distinct  from 
theological  differences,  come  under  the  latter  "  conditional,"  and  it 
seems  idle  then  to  go  to  exscinding  our  brethren  on  account  of  them. 
A  wise  Christian  will  devote  his  energies  to  make  all  men  unite  in 
fundamental  doctrine  ;  and  will  not  be  afraid  of  the  world's  coming 
to  an  end,  because  men,  who  agree  in  faith,  differ  on  its  philosophi- 
cal relations.  We  believe  that  some  among  us  are  troubled  over 
much  about  the  speculative  notions  of  the  day.  It  is  well  to  be  cau- 
tious— not  so  well  to  be  in  a  fright.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  give  heed 
lest  the  spirit  of  our  religion  be  circumscribed  or  expelled  ;  but  it  is 
needless  to  raise  a  panic  because  one  man  prefers  this  mode  and 
another  that  of  explaining  the  one  faith.  Let  not  the  grasshopper 
become  a  burden  to  us,  while  we  are  so  young  as  a  people.  No 


12 


INTRODUCTION. 


greater  evil  has  come  upon  us  than  has  come  upon  other  lands,  and 
other  ages.    And  yet  the  world  moves  on,  as  it  did  aforetime.  We 
d&Are  that  men  may  be  more  true  to  their  nature,  as  beings  of 
"  large  discourse,  looking  before  and  after,"  and  neither  blown  about 
by  every  wind  of  doctrine,  nor  fear-stricken  as  though  some  strange 
thing  had  happened,  when  the  mind  springs  one  of  its  artificial  bars. 
Let  us  see  what  has  been  thought  and  said  in  other  days,  and  we 
shall  have  the  health- giving  assurance,  that  truth  will  live  on,  though 
we  cannot  keep  it  always  decked  out,  as  Turretin  or  Gomar  may 
have  prescribed.    Let  us  see  how  men,  good  and  true,  are  now 
speculating  in  foreign  climes,  and  we  shall  be  convinced,  that  the 
sky  does  not  close  in  with  the  earth  four  or  five  miles  from  the  spot 
where  we  happen  to  stand,  however  central  that  spot  may  be. 
There  are  things  in  the  world  that  we  have  never  yet  heard  of. 
Then  is  it  not  well  to  have  a  mind  capacious  enough  and  liberal 
enough  to  examine,  without  dismal  forebodings,  a  form  of  philoso- 
phy, even  though  it  may  not  have  been  laid  down  in  the  standards  ? 
Is  it  not  well  to  keep  our  balance,  like  the  town  clerk  of  Ephesus, 
and  the  doctor  of  the  law  before  the  Sanhedrim  P1    We  should  be 
glad  to  count  up  the  instances,  that  have  come  to  our  knowledge, 
of  sanguine  men,  who,  at  a  period  of  peculiar  religious  encourage- 
ment, have  seen  evidences  of  the  immediate  approach  of  the  Millen- 
nium ;  and  the  instances  of  melancholy  men,  who,  at  a  period  of 
peculiar  religious  conflict,  have  had  no  doubt,  that  it  was  the  last 
letting  loose  of  evil.    We  wish  that  all  men  of  such  "  quick  infe- 
rence" would  remember,  that  what  is  usual  in  one  sphere  is  not 
therefore  a  universal  law  ;  and  that  what  is  new  to  them,  be  it  in 
theology  or  philosophy,  may  be  old  and  even  stale  to  more  knowing 
men  than  they.    We  are  not  sure  that  the  present  volume  contains 
a  single  thought,  of  any  importance,  which  is  not  already  familiar  to 
the  reader ;  but  it  perhaps  contains  some  new  modifications  of 
thought,  which  will  deepen  the  impression,  that  the  great  realities  of 
our  religion  may  consist  with  diversified  modes  ;  that  we  are  bound 
to  cleave  by  all  means  to  the  realities,  and  to  be  neither  indifferent 
nor  bigoted  about  the  modes.2 

1  Acts-l'J:  35—41.  5:  34— 39. 

2  "  We  may  notice,"  says  Prof.  Robinson,  "  as  a  happy  trait  in  the  char- 
acter of  German  Christians,  the  absence  of  a  censorious  spirit.  There  are 
indeed,  in  that  country  as  well  as  in  others,  those  who  esteem  it  their  duty 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


Another  consideration  which  has  induced  the  translators  to  present 
this  volume  to  the  public,  is  the  fact  that  German  theological  re- 
searches afford  a  striking  illustration  of  the  power  of  truth.  The 
concurrence  of  distinct  testimonies  furnishes  an  argument,  additional 
to  that  derived  from  either  of  the  testimonies  themselves,  in  favor  of 
the  fact  attested  ;  and  when  the  witnesses  have  had  no  communion 
or  acquaintance  with  each  other,  especially  when  they  are  so  diverse 
in  character  as  to  be  repulsive  to  each  other,  their  agreement  gives 
a  new  proof  of  the  fact  on  which  they  agree.  That  Jew  and  Gen- 
tile, learned  and  unlearned,  bond  and  free,  have  united  in  their  ad- 
miration of  the  character  of  our  Saviour,  is  a  collateral  argument  in 
favor  of  that  character ;  just  as  when  connoisseurs  and  novices, 
in  fair  weather  and  in  foul,  standing  on  a  higher  and  on  a  lower  point 
of  observation,  have  united  in  their  admiration  of  a  picture  or  a 
monument,  we  feel  an  increased  assurance  that  the  work  of  art  is 
modeled  after  a  true  standard.  Our  confidence  in  evangelical  doc- 
trine does  not  depend  on  human  authority,  and  yet  we  feel  the  more 
confidence  in  it  when  the  Aristotelian  and  the  Platonist  bow  down 
before  it,  and  when,  though  each  of  them  censures  the  other,  they 
both  do  reverence  to  the  teachings  of  Jesus.  We  feel,  at  such  a 
time,  that  these  teachings  take  deep  hold  of  the  elements  of  the  hu- 
man mind.  We  feel  that  divine  truth  is  magnetic,  and  whenever 
factitious  prejudices  do  not  hold  back,  it  draws  all  intellects  unto  it. 
When  we  survey  the  English  and  the  German  schools,  we  find  that 
many,  who  started  in  seemingly  opposite  directions,  have  met  at 
last  on  the  same  ground  ;  that  though  the  processes  are  different, 
the  results  are  often  the  same ;  and  if  both  schools  should  follow  the 
advice  given  to  an  English  jurist,  to  state  their  opinions,  but  not 
their  reasons  for  them,  many  who  seem  to  differ  now,  would  be  found 

to  watch  over  the  spiritual,  as  well  as  temporal  concerns  of  their  neighbors, 
and  to  make  their  own  views  and  opinions  the  standard  to  which  all  others 
should  conform.  But  as  a  general  fact,  this  is  not  the  character  of  Chris- 
tians in  Germany.  If  a  brother  agrees  with  them  in  essentials,  they  are 
willing  to  bear  and  to  forbear  with  him  in  regard  to  other  matters  ;  and  by 
the  exhibition  of  meekness  and  gentleness  seek  rather  to  win  him  over  upon 
minor  points,  than  by  disapprobation  and  censure  drive  him  to  a  greater  dis- 
tance from  them.  They  abstain  from  '  judging  one  another,  remembering 
that  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink,  but  righteousness  and  peace, 
and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.'  Indeed  this  would  seem  to  be  the  true  chris- 
tian tolerance."    Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  1.  pp.  446 — 7. 


14 


INTRODUCTION. 


essentially  to  agree.  Americans  have  defended  the  evangelical  system 
after  a  simple  view  of  it ;  they  have  founded  it  on  the  principles  of 
common  sense,  and  the  plain  meaning  of  the  Bible.  The  Germans 
have  taken  a  more  complex  view  of  it ;  they  have  compared  it  with 
what  they  call  a  more  spiritual  philosophy  ;  they  have  tested  it  by  a 
more  scholar-like  interpretation,  and  the  result  has  been  that  many 
of  them  have  ended  their  circuit  at  our  own  goal.  We  have  con- 
demned them  as  too  visionary  ;  they  have  condemned  us  as  too 
empirical ;  but  the  high  and  the  low  have  met  together  in  the  be- 
lief, that  what  we  technically  call  the  evangelical  system  is,  in  its 
main  features,  the  very  system  believed  and  taught  by  the  apostles. 
Said  one  of  their  most  orthodox  commentators,  after  reading  Dwight's 
Theology,  "  If  this  is  the  reasoning  of  a  leader  in  the  American 
church,  what  must  the  people  be  \n  and  yet  the  conclusions  at  which 
that  leader  arrived,  and  the  spiritual  state  of  that  people,  are  essen- 
tially the  same  to  which  this  critic  is  endeavoring  to  raise  his  own 
countrymen.  Now  we  rightfully  derive  an  argument  in  favor  of 
our  decisions  of  common  sense,  from  the  fact  of  their  agreement 
with  the  results  of  German  dialectics.  It  is  often  asked,  what  one 
important  truth  has  been  exhibited  in  this  or  that  German  treatise, 
which  has  not  been  explained,  in  a  simpler  and  clearer  style,  by  our 
New  England  divines  ?  Suppose  that  we  answer,  not  one  ;  sup- 
pose that  we  admit  that  Twesten  on  Sin,  for  example,  proves  labo- 
riously and  yet  darkly,  nothing  more  than  some  of  our  own  preachers 
have  made  clear  to  men,  women,  and  children.  What  then  ?  Is 
there  no  value  in  a  new  way  of  maintaining  an  old  truth?  Is  there 
no  satisfaction  in  seeing  a  recondite  philosophy,  and  a  historical  in- 
vestigation, lend  their  aid  to  what  we  have  believed  simply  because 
we  knew  it  to  be  true  ?  It  may  indeed  be  replied  to  the  above,  that 
the  advocates  of  error  in  our  land  may  plead,  in  their  favor,  a  like 
agreement  with  many  German  divines.  But  to  this  it  may  be  briefly 
rejoined,  that  while  we  must  assign  some  special  cause  for  water's 
flowing  up  hill,  we  need  not,  for  its  flowing  down. 

Again,  we  have  adopted  our  theological  opinions  with  but  little 
opposition  from  others.  The  evangelical  divines  of  Germany  have 
adopted  and  sustained  theirs,  after  a  contesting  of  every  inch  of 
ground.  They  have  fought  for  every  Greek  particle  and  every  illa- 
tive conjunction.  Their  faith  has  gone  through  the  burning  fiery 
furnace,  and  has  come  out  whole.    Eires  that  we  have  known  little 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 


about,  have  purified  their  gold,  which  is  of  the  same  temper  with 
ours.  From  its  passing  through  such  an  ordeal,  we  prize  it  the 
more  highly.  It  should  seem  that  whatever  can  be  done  for  the 
downfall  of  our  religion,  has  been  done  in  vain. 

Si  Pergama  dextra 
Defendi  possent,  etiam  h'kc  defensa  fuissent. 

Though  German  skepticism  may  shake  our  confidence  for  a  moment, 
it  will  be  the  means  of  strengthening  it  at  the  last.  Rational  faith  is 
that  which  can  "  give  a  reason"  for  its  existence,  and  is  able  to 
"  convince  gainsayers."  That  belief,  which  has  never  encountered 
one  rough  blast,  is  apt  to  be  of  hot-bed  growth,  sickly,  ready  to  die. 
It  is  apt  to  afford  pretext  for  the  sarcasm  of  Hume,  that  w  our  most 
holy  religion  is  founded  on  faith,  not  on  reason."  Not  that  every 
mind  should  be  recklessly  exposed  to  the  attacks  of  the  infidel ; 
what  we  contend  for  is,  that  as  many  as  can  bear  it  should  see  the 
triumphs  of  evangelical  doctrine  over  its  cunningest  foes. 

Still  further,  many  of  those  who  have  espoused  the  evangelical 
system  in  Germany,  have  done  it  after  a  vigorous  contest  in  their 
own  minds.  Their  early  prejudices,  the  fashions  of  the  day,  the 
pride  of  learning,  the  whole  system  of  their  education,  have  been 
like  a  torrent  bearing  them  on  to  infidelity.  But  they  have  strug- 
gled hard  for  the  truth  ;  they  have  worked  their  way  into  it  against 
all  these  hindrances.  It  is  not  exactly  so,  however ;  truth  has 
struggled  hard  with  them ;  it  has  dragged  them  along,  while  they 
have  been  wrestling  to  get  free  ;  and  it  has  brought  them  out  into  a 
safe  place,  in  spite  of  themselves.  In  their  child-like  frankness  of 
manner,  some  of  them  avow,  to-day,  their  wish  and  their  hope  to 
prove  this  doctrine  true,  and  to  prove  that  false  ;  and  to-morrow  they 
come  in  sad-hearted ;  they  cannot  succeed  in  their  essayings. 
They  have  done  their  best ;  but  the  evidence  is  against  them.  Now 
the  doctrine,  which  they  wish  to  prove,  is  what  we  call  heretical ; 
that  which  they  have  tried  in  vain  to  disprove,  is  what  we  call  evan- 
gelical. They  have  thus  paid  a  homage  to  truth  which  we  love  to 
see.  The  history  of  Tholuck's  mind,  in  reference  to  the  doctrine  of 
eternal  punishment,  is  one  illustration  of  this  power  in  the  principles 
of  the  Gospel  to  bind  the  reason  to  them,  so  long  as  the  reason  does 
not  belie  its  name.1    We  legitimately  confide  more  in  the  decisions 

1  A  similar  remark,  with  some  modifications,  may  be  made  in  respect  to 
Schleiermacher's  change  of  opinion  on  less  essential  points. 


16 


INTRODUCTION. 


of  a  man  who  has  been  led  by  argument  against  his  will,  than  of  one 
who  was  "  born  into"  his  present  faith,  or  has  been  allured  into  it 
by  the  smiles  of  fashion,  or  prejudice,  or  interest. 

But  once  more  ;  a  large  number  of  German  theologians  deny  the 
divine  authority  of  the  Bible.    This  is  true  at  the  present  moment, 
though  the  tendency  of  their  minds  is  in  a  process  of  change  for  the 
better,  and  the  day  is  not  far  distant,  we  believe,  when  the  results  of 
all  their  speculation  will  be,  a  general  acquiescence  in  the  funda- 
mental truths  of  religion.    But  even  now,  these  ministers  of  the 
New  Testament,  which  they  regard  as  of  like  authority  with  the 
Memorabilia  of  Xenophon,  these  doctors  of  divinity,  who  believe  in 
no  other  God  than  the  universe  itself,  are  paying  daily  contributions 
to  the  cause  of  sound  principle.    They  are  free-born  men  ;  they  are 
partial  to  none  of  the  sects,  but  look  with  pity  on  all ;  they  care  not 
what  the  Bible  teaches,  whether  this  or  that,  for  they  are  not  going 
to  be  swayed  by  its  decisions ;  and  yet  out  of  mere  curiosity  and  in 
the  spirit  of  antiquarian  research,  they  apply  their  critical  acumen  to 
unfold  its  real  meaning.    In  this  state  of  freedom  from  hopes  and 
fears,  unshackled  by  creeds,  unbiassed  by  sectarian  predilections, 
they  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Bible  teaches,  for  substance, 
just  what  our  Puritan  fathers  have  said  that  it  teaches.    They  de- 
clare, that  if  they  believed  the  Bible,  they  would  also  believe  in  the 
correlative  doctrines  of  depravity,  regeneration  and  atonement ;  and 
that  no  man  can  be  consistent  with  himself,  who  thinks  that  book  to 
be  inspired,  and  at  the  same  time  rejects  the  main  peculiarities  of  the 
Lutheran  or  Calvinistic  symbols.    They  declare  their  conviction, 
then,  that  the  only  alternative  is,  infidelity  or  orthodoxy.    We  feel 
strengthened  by  the  judgment  of  these  great  men.    There  are  but 
few  among  us,  who  are  willing  to  abandon  the  orthodox  faith  for  the 
infidel.    It  is  doing  less  violence  to  the  moral  feelings  to  repose  in 
some  convenient  arbor  midway  between  the  two.    If  there  be  found 
no  such  resting  place,  we  have  respect  enough  for  the  sensibilities 
of  man,  to  believe  that  some,  at  least,  will  choose  what  they  now  re- 
gard as  too  rigid,  rather  than  what  all  experience  proves  licentious.1 
Another  consideration,  influencing  the  translators  of  the  present 
volume,  has  been  the  fact,  that  our  community  have  seen  fewer  spe- 
cimens than  would  be  useful,  of  the  religious  sentiment  of  the  Ger- 

1  l  or  an  illustration  of  some  of  the  preceding  remarks,  see  pages  293— 
298  of  this  volume  ;  and  also  the  two  translations  from  Ruckert. 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

mans.  The  name  of  Germany  has  been  often  associated  with  cold- 
ness of  feeling.  It  is  not  thought  to  be  the  land  of  warm-hearted 
and  of  free-hearted  friends.  Much  study  is  thought  to  have  frozen 
up  the  fountains  of  emotion  there,  and  to  have  made  men  little  else 
than  dry  plodding  scholars,  seldom  refreshed  with  an  outflow  from 
the  heart.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  estimate  of  the  sensibility 
of  the  Germans  is  unjust.  Their  frankness  and  fulness  of  feeling  is 
what  we  should  do  well  to  imitate.  We  come  the  nearer  to  withered 
trees.  What  one  of  them  has  said  of  the  English,  he  would  also 
apply  to  us  ;  "  In  the  pulpit  they  are  all  head,  and  no  heart."  The 
history  of  the  German  mind  furnishes  a  good  illustration  of  the  truth, 
that  intellectual  excitement  need  not  absorb  the  affections ;  that  on 
the  other  hand,  it  may  quicken  and  strengthen  them.  Such  is 
the  relation  between  the  different  provinces  of  our  intellectual  being, 
that  improvement  in  one  province,  tends  to  improvement  in  another, 
and  if  the  ideas  are  clear  and  bright,  the  feelings  may  be  the  more 
lively  and  deep.  This  tendency  is  indeed  often  resisted  ;  the  re- 
verse often  seems  to  be  the  fact.  Good  men  have  sometimes 
avoided  "  much  study,"  through  fear  of  becoming  skeletons  in 
their  religious  as  well  as  physical  nature.  But  they  have  mistaken 
a  perversion  for  a  law.  Where  is  there  more  severity  of  mental 
discipline,  than  among  the  German  scholars  ?  From  childhood 
upward  their  intellect  is  rigorously  tasked  ;  and  yet  they  live  long 
and  happily  ;  their  feelings,  instead  of  being  compressed,  have 
free  vent ;  and  the  fault  to  be  found  with  their  expressions  of  senti- 
ment is,  not  so  much  that  they  are  unnaturally  cold,  as  that  they  are 
unnaturally  extravagant.  There  is  often  a  mawkishness  in  the  sen- 
timentalism  of  the  Germans,  which  would  not  exist  if  they  were 
more  practical  men  ;  still  there  is  often  a  depth  in  it  which  is  rarely 
equalled  among  us.  They  regard  our  manifestations  of  religious 
feeling  as  torpid  ;  if  we  were  more  familiar  with  theirs,  wre  should 
oftener  regard  them  as  rhapsodical.  We  think  of  a  neological 
preacher  as  an  impersonation  of  frigid  intellect ;  and  yet  his  mode 
of  composing  and  delivering  his  sermons  is  often  more  like  that  of 
our  fanatics,  than  like  that  of  our  judicious  divines.  He  is  kindled 
into  fervor  by  moonbeams.  When  this  constitutional  sensibility  is 
sanctified,  it  has  some  new,  interesting  features.  Its  characteristics 
are  like  those  of  the  pious  monks,  who  were  so  much  the  more  inti- 
mate with  their  Saviour,  as  they  were  cloistered  from  the  world ; 

3 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

not  so  healthy  in  their  devotions  as  they  were  earnest ;  not  working 
with  their  hands  for  the  welfare  of  the  church,  not  going  about  doing 
good,  but  still  their  life  hid  with  Christ  in  God.  It  may  not  be  unin- 
teresting, then,  to  see  such  specimens  of  the  religious  sentiment 
among  the  Germans,  as  are  exhibited  in  some  portions  of  this 
volume.  Certainly  it  will  not  be  unprofitable,  if  we  learn  from  them 
the  consistency  between  severe  thought  and  fervid  affections  ;  and 
if  we  try  to  sympathize  with  their  warm  gushing  expressions  of  trust 
and  love.  Let  us  divest  ourselves,  for  the  moment,  of  national  par- 
tialities, and  open  our  hearts  to  the  influence  of  a  piety  that  has 
grown  up  on  an  uncongenial  soil,  amid  tares  and  thorns.  We  shall 
see  that  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  is  essentially  the  same,  with  what- 
ever robes  it  may  be  invested  ;  that  good  men,  everywhere  and  at 
all  times,  have  the  same  joys  and  sorrows,  hopes  and  fears.  We 
shall  be  more  inclined,  perhaps,  to  look  upon  the  whole  christian 
church  as  a  brotherhood  ;  arrayed  in  vestments  of  different  hue, 
their  individuality  marked  by  dissimilar  features,  but  the  same  blood 
flowing  in  the  veins  of  all,  and  the  pulse  beating  with  the  same  life. 
The  voice  of  the  American  and  that  of  the  German  are  unlike  in 
compass  and  are  on  different  keys ;  but  the  gutturals  of  the  one  and 
the  sibilants  of  the  other  make  pleasant  concord  in  the  songs  of  Zion. 

Intimately  connected  with  the  preceding,  is  another  consideration 
which  has  actuated  the  translators  of  this  volume.  It  is  the  desire  which 
has  been  often  felt,  to  see  in  an  English  dress,  more  specimens  of 
the  German  style  of  preaching.  The  discourses  of  Krummacher 
have  been  recently  well  received  in  Great  Britain  and  America,  but, 
apart  from  these,  little  has  been  known  among  us  of  the  mode  in 
which  German  theology  has  affected  the  ministrations  of  the  pulpit. 
It  might  perhaps  have  been  more  useful  to  select,  for  this  volume, 
sermons  from  various  authors,  instead  of  selecting  them  all  from  one. 
But  as  the  evangelical  portion  of  our  countrymen  have  felt  a  peculiar 
interest  in  Prof.  Tholuck,  it  has  been  thought  advisable  to  select 
from  him  alone.  The  translator  is  not  ignorant,  that  the  dis- 
courses here  presented  have  deficiencies  and  faults  ;J  that  their  au- 
thor indulges  too  much  in  antithesis,  in  forced  comparison,  in  exu- 
berance of  even  good  metaphor,  and  in  various  peculiarities  that  of- 
fend a  correct  taste.  If  a  critic  wishes  to  illustrate  certain  infelicities  of 

1  The  faults  of  Tholuck 's  style  of  writing  are  alluded  to  in  Note  A  to  the 
first  Article  in  this  volume,  and  on  pp.  220,  221,  222,  224,  and  others. 


4 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

style,  he  will  find  undoubted  specimens  of  them  in  the  sermons  of 
Prof.  Tholuck.  These  sermons  were  not  designed  to  be  models 
of  fine  writing,  but  to  do  good  to  the  men  who  heard  them.  Had 
their  author  adhered  more  closely  to  the  canons  of  true  rhetoric, 
he  had  done  more  wisely,  but  then  he  would  not  have  been  Tholuck ; 
and,  as  it  is,  we  are  disposed  to  derive  as  much  pleasure  as  we  can 
from  his  excellences,  and  to  apologize,  as  far  as  candor  will  allow, 
for  his  faults. 

We  think  that  candor  will  admit  various  apologies.  In  the  first 
place,  Tholuck's  reading  has  been  too  multifarious  to  permit  that  dil- 
igent study  of  models,  which  is  essential  to  a  finished  style.  Se- 
condly, his  attention  has  been  so  much  directed  to  the  writings  of 
Jewish  Rabbins,  and  to  the  finical  compositions  of  the  middle  ages, 
that  we  could  not  expect  his  taste  to  remain  unvitiated.  It  is  the 
man  of  one  choice  book,  who,  in  some  respects,  is  the  least  liable  to 
injure  his  sensibilities  to  the  beautiful :  it  is  the  man  of  many  books, 
and  particularly  of  such  as  are  written  with  the  monastic  pruriency 
of  imagination,  who  is  most  in  danger  of  mistaking  an  artificial  heat, 
for  the  glow  of  life.  Thirdly,  the  mind  of  Tholuck  is  too  excitable 
and  his  avocations  are  too  numerous,  to  allow  such  a  severe  recen- 
sion of  his  first  draughts,  as  is  necessary  for  chaste  and  correct  wri- 
ting. Fourthly,  he  wrote  for  the  Germans  and  not  for  the  Ameri- 
cans. We  always  do  injustice  to  an  author,  by  comparing  his  efforts 
with  our  standard  rather  than  his  own.  Who  does  not  admire  the 
discourses  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  John  Howe  ?  and  yet  what  would 
be  thought  of  a  preacher,  at  the  present  time,  who  should  write  pre- 
cisely after  their  model  ?  What  would  be  thought  of  a  poet,,  who 
should  employ  nowadays,  the  same  similes  which  Homer,  or  Virgil, 
or  Shakspeare  employed  ?  What  would  become  of  the  eloquence 
of  Burke,  if  his  speeches  were  delivered,  in  his  own  way,  to  an  in- 
land congregation  of  our  countiymen  ?  We  are  not  intending  to 
compare  Tholuck  with  these  men ;  but  simply  to  say,  that  we  al- 
ways wrong  a  speaker  or  writer,  when  we  overlook  the  standard 
which  he  had  in  mind  ;  and  imagine  a  different  class  of  hearers  or 
readers  in  his  view,  from  those  whom  he  actually  addressed.  We 
should  always  regard  with  some  forbearance  the  errors  of  an  author, 
when  he  has  adopted  them  in  sympathy  with  the  public  taste,  and 
when  in  despite  of  them  he  exerts  a  marked  influence  over  mind. 

In  addition  to  these  palliative  circumstances,  some  of  which  are 


20 


INTRODUCTION. 


peculiar  to  Tholuck,  there  are  others  which  are  common  to  him  and 
his  countrymen,  and  may  be  therefore  more  properly  noticed  here- 
after.  We  would  not,  however,  be  disposed  to  regard  Tholuck  as  a 
mere  subject  for  an  apology.  The  excellences  of  his  style  of 
preaching  cannot  be  so  appropriately  mentioned  here,  as  in  a  subse- 
quent part  of  the  volume  ;  and  they  are  therefore  considered  some- 
what fully  in  our  Sketch  of  his  Life  and  Character.1  We  think  in 
the  first  place,  that  his  excellences  overbalance  his  faults.  Strange 
indeed  would  it  be,  if  a  scholar  of  his  varied  acquisition,  and  a 
Christian  of  his  living  enthusiasm,  should  not  express  himself  in  the 
pulpit  so  as  to  do  more  good  than  hurt.  But  in  the  second  place, 
even  if  it  were  otherwise,  we  should  regard  his  discourses  with 
interest  as  intellectual  phenomena,  as  exhibiting  the  workings  of  a 
confessedly  superior  mind,  and  the  tastes  of  a  people,  who  in  the 
words  of  Jean  Paul,  "  hold  the  empire  of  the  air."  It  cannot  cer- 
tainly be  a  fruitless  occupation  to  analyze  the  discourses  of  a  man, 
who,  though  trained  in  the  Academy,  is  yet  a  favorite  minister  with 
the  peasants,  is  often  met  by  them  in  his  walks  and  thanked  for  the 
spiritual  blessings  which  have  flowed  from  his  sermons ;  who  is  also 
a  favorite  preacher  with  the  students  at  the  University,  with  some  of 
the  Rationalists  even,  and  is  often  the  means  of  winning  them  to  the 
simplicity  of  the  christian  faith.  They  will  sometimes  hiss  or 
murmur  in  the  Lecture-Room,  when  he  impugns  some  assertion  of 
Gesenius,  but  on  the  next  Sabbath,  they  will  throng  around  his 
pulpit.  German  reviewers  of  his  discourses,  though  they  condemn 
some  of  his  peculiar  traits,  award  him  a  high  meed  of  praise  ;  and 
if  we  must  adopt  a  modified  eulogium,  we  yet  may  be  interested  in 
seeing  what  they  so  much  admire.  A  reviewer  in  the  Studien  und 
Kritiken  for  1835,  says  of  him,  Ubi  plurima  nitent,  haud  ego  paucis 
offendar  maculis ;  and  even  Bretschneider,  notwithstanding  his 
neological  predilections,  speaks  of  the  fifth  sermon  in  this  volume,  the 
very  one  which  we  should  deem  most  obnoxious  to  his  censure,  as 
a  clear  proof  of  Tholuck's  power  over  mind. 

In  the  third  place,  we  think  that  Dr.  Tholuck's  sermons  will  sug- 
gest some  important  queries  in  relation  to  the  style  of  preaching 
prevalent  in  our  own  land.  His  excellences  are  those  in  which  we 
are  most  deficient,  and  many  of  his  faults  are  but  his  beauties 
carried  too  far.    It  may  be  well  for  us  to  compare  our  style  of 

1  See  pa<res  220  —226  and  several  passages  in  the  notes,  pp.  170—193. 


INTRODUCTION. 


21 


preaching  with  his,  and  see  the  different  results  which  flow  from  our 
different  intellectual  training.  We  shall  doubtless  find  much  that  is 
flattering  to  us ;  but  let  us  not  be  reluctant  to  acknowledge  our 
imperfections.  The  preaching  of  New  England  is  perhaps,  all 
things  considered,  superior  to  that  of  any  other  country.  But  we 
should  not  be  the  wise  men  we  pretend  to  be,  could  we  derive  no 
benefit  from  a  comparison  of  our  homiletics  with  that  of  men  whose 
intellect  has  been  more  severely  tasked  than  ours,  and  who  have 
let  their  imagination  go  more  free. 

It  may  be  worth  an  inquiry,  whether  there  is  not  sometimes  a 
want  of  just  proportion  in  our  exercises  of  the  sanctuary.  Is  there 
not  a  prevalent  idea  that  edification  embraces  nothing  but  intellectual 
improvement  ?  Is  there  not  a  tendency  to  let  argument  feed  on 
worship  ?  to  abridge  the  singing  and  the  prayer,  so  as  to  accommo- 
date a  lengthened  discussion  ?  to  make  the  sermon  too  much  of  an 
absorbent,  and  to  give  logic  the  sceptre  in  the  house  of  devotion  ? 
The  sermons  of  Tholuck  err  on  the  side  of  brevity ;  do  not  ours 
sometimes  err  on  the  side  of  length  and  monopoly  ?  His  error  is 
greater  than  ours,  as  deficiency  is  always  worse  than  redundancy  ; 
we  should  be  sorry  to  exchange  our  "  metaphysics"  for  his  want  of 
it ;  still  should  not  the  smaller  error  be  corrected  ?  and  if  there  be  a 
desire  to  deliver  '*  great  sermons,"  should  they  be  allowed  to  be- 
come great  by  swallowing  up  the  exercises  which  are  more  dis- 
tinctively devotional  ? 

Again,  are  not  our  preachers  too  often  fettered  by  professional 
rules  ?  Do  they  give  their  mind  free  play  ?  Do  they  not  lose  their 
personal  identity,  and  merge  themselves  into  one  standard  character ; 
no  one  being  a  man  really,  but  every  one  an  impersonation  of  the 
rules  ;  every  one  standing,  writing,  speaking  just  so,  on  penalty  of 
being  "  rather  a  singular  man  for  a  preacher."  How  little  of  home  in 
the  pulpit ;  of  a  real,  natural  breathing,  and  living  there  !  How 
much  of  the  realist's  idea  of  man;  every  body  in  general,  nobody 
in  particular.  Have  not  rules  come  to  be  our  masters,  instead  of 
being  our  servants  ?  It  is  as  useful  to  have  rules  as  creeds  ;  but 
let  them  be  incorporated  into  the  life,  and  not  remain  as  "  dried 
preparations."  It  is  well  and  best,  that  the  preacher  be  as  one  "  set 
apart"  in  the  pulpit ;  but  why  need  he  cease  to  speak  like  a  fellow 
being,  of  like  sympathies  with  his  hearers ;  and  why  cease  to  be 
himself?    It  may  be  that  Tholuck  carries  his  humanity,  and  his 


22 


INTRODUCTION. 


freedom  from  rule  too  far  ;  "  his  specific  difference"  is  sometimes 
too  apparent ;  but  his  license  is  no  excuse  for  our  thraldom ;  and 
we  may  perhaps  learn  from  him,  as  well  as  others  like  him,  how 
goodly  it  is  for  one  who  has  the  preacher's  high  office,  to  manifest  a 
kindred  feeling  with  his  race;  to  show  that  he  is  a  husband,  and 
father,  and  brother,  notwithstanding  his  dignity,  and  that  a  warm 
heart  beats  under  the  sacred  gown.1 

Still  further,  is  there  not  too  great  fondness,  in  many  of  our 
preachers,  for  the  abstract  forms  of  statement  ?  Is  not  the  pronoun 
"  it"  introduced,  when  you  or  he  would  be  more  tangible,  and  ex- 
pressive. While  we  estimate  above  all  price  our  doctrinal  instruc- 
tions, may  they  not  be  communicated  to  the  popular  mind  with  more 
clearness,  and  even  with  more  fulness,  if  we  will  clothe  them  in 

1  The  following  is  the  substance  of  an  extract,  from  Tholuck's  Preface  to 
the  New  Edition  of  his  Sermons,  pp.  ix.  x. 

For  the  successful  discharge  of  his  office  among  the  higher  classes,  it  is 
desirable  that  the  minister  have  the  greatest  possible  cultivation  of  mind 
and  the  most  extensive  views.  u  At  a  time  when  Shakspeare  is  a  more  de- 
cisive authority  for  many  than  Paul,  and  a  distich  of  Goethe  is  a  stronger 
proof-text  than  the  whole  Epistle  to  the  Romans  and  Galatians,  a  minister, 
who  would  produce  an  effect  upon  his  congregation,  must  not  be  unac- 
quainted with  their  standard-authors.  If  in  any  situation  the  remark  of  the 
apostle  may  be  repeated,  "  All  things  are  yours,"  it  may  be  repeated  here 
also.  An  English  preacher  was  found,  of  a  Saturday,  reading  Gibbon,  and 
in  reply  to  a  question  he  said,  "  If  1  am  Christ's,  then  is  Gibbon  mine,  and 
the  wheat-field  which  also  brings  forth  fruit  for  Christ."  In  this  respect  the 
preacher  of  our  times  will  receive  injury  from  the  old  rules  which  have  been 
prescribed,  and  which  seem  unable  to  draw  the  boundary-line  strictly 
enough  between  the  life  and  the  pulpit.  Hence  his  sermon  appears  to  the 
learned  like  pedantry  ;  like  an  Egyptian  mummy  ; — it  is  like  dried  sweet- 
meats in  a  glass  jar.  "  He  even  used  the  word  Russia  in  the  pulpit,"  was 
the  recent  complaint  of  a  nice  critic.  In  opposition  to  such  prudish  puri- 
fiers of  the  language,  one  might  prescribe  with  Harms,  "  let  the  preacher 
speak  negligently  and  incorrectly." — If  we  would  bring  our  educated  men 
near  to  the  pulpit,  we  must  frequently  direct  their  minds  to  that  province  in 
which  their  own  life  is  passed.  Paul  who  quotes  Aratus  in  Athens,  and 
Epimenides  before  the  Cretans,  will  afford  us  a  screen,  if  the  pulpit 
censors  complain  of  us  and  condemn  us.  There  is  another  advantage  to  be 
gained  by  this  style.  It  increases  confidence  in  the  person  of  the  preacher. 
He  no  longer  seems  to  be  (merely)  a  man  of  consecrated  caste,  who  speaks 
from  the  school ;  all  see  that  he  himself  has  gone  through  with  the  afflic- 
tions of  a  hard,  long  life.  We  no  longer  feel  as  if  the  mere  preacher  were 
addressing  us,  but  also  the  vian." 


INTRODUCTION. 


23 


words,  which  if  less  classical  and  refined,  are  yet  more  congenial 
with  popular  usage.  It  is  a  favorite  strain  of  remark  with  Tholuck, 
that  the  sermon  should  "spring  from  the  congregation,  not  from 
without  the  congregation  ;"  that  it  should  be  "  the  product  of  his 
mother-wit,"  rather  than  of  his  dialectics  ;  that  "  truth  will  often 
abide  in  the  highest  garret  of  the  hearer's  mind,  without  entering 
into  the  dwelling-room  of  the  affections  ;"  that  "  there  is  a  way  from 
the  heart  to  the  head,  as  well  as  a  way  from  the  head  to  the  heart 
and  that,  though  in  the  physical  kingdom  the  light  goes  faster  than 
the  sound,  yet  in  the  spiritual,  the  feeling  is  often  excited,  before 
any  direct  appeal  is  made  to  the  intellect.1  "  William  Humboldt," 
he  says  in  his  characteristic  way,2  "  styled  eloquence  the  attaching 
of  a  composition  to  the  life  of  the  people.  How  much  fresher  would 
our  discourses  be,  if  we  knew  how  to  knit  them  properly  with  that 
which  is  before  the  eyes  of  all,  and  in  the  thoughts  of  all.  Who  has 
not  already  remarked,  how  often  the  eyes  of  the  congregation, 
which  had  been  moving  to  and  fro,  from  right  to  left,  would  begin 
to  direct  themselves  in  a  straight  line  to  the  pulpit,  and  how  still  all 
would  become,  as  soon  as  the  discourse  passed  from  generals  to  par- 
ticulars ;  to  such  matters  of  fact  as  were  commonly  known  ?  The 
preacher  then  should  illustrate  his  theme  in  such  a  style  as  the 
sound,  unvitiated  community  employ  ;  that  is,  the  concrete. — When, 
for  example,  Luther  wishes  to  show  what  the  words  in  Matt.  5:  21 
seq.  mean,  and  to  prove  that  even  the  feeling,  which  may  lead  to 
the  death-blow,  is  ground  of  condemnation,  what  compressed  power 
is  in  his  style  !  What  accommodation  to  the  people,  in  contemplat- 
ing so  high  a  sentiment !  "  Thinkest  thou,"  he  asks,  "  that  Christ 
speaks  only  of  the  fist,  when  he  says  thou  shalt  not  kill  ?  What  is 
the  meaning  of  thou  7  Not  barely  thy  hand  or  thy  foot,  thy  tongue 
or  any  other  single  member  of  thy  body  ;  but  all  that  thou  art,  in 
body  and  in  soul.  Just  so,  if  I  say  to  any  one,  thou  shalt  not  do 
this,  I  mean,  not  with  the  fist,  but  with  the  whole  person." 

We  do  not  wish  to  deny  that  Tholuck's  brightness  often  becomes 
a  glare  ;  yet  even  this  may  suggest  that  our  occasional  darkness 
should  become  light.  But  whatever  may  be  said  of  the  rhetorical 
character  of  these  discourses,  we  hope  that  the  pious  feeling  which 
is  breathed  in  them,  may  impart  warmth  to  the  reader's  heart ;  and 
also  that  the  exhibitions  of  sacred  truth,  which  are  given  in  various 


1  See  Pref.  to  JSew  Ed.  of  Serrn.  pp.  50,  51. 


24 


INTRODUCTION. 


parts  of  this  volume,  may  exert  their  appropriate  influence  upon  his 
moral  sensibilities.  He  will  find  here  but  little  exhortation  to  piety; 
and  pietj  is  a  feeling  which  does  not  come  by  barely  soliciting  it. 
It  comes,  if  it  come  at  all,  by  a  meditation  on  its  appropriate  ob- 
jects. Men  love,  not  merely  because  they  are  entreated  to  do  so, 
but  by  beholding  an  object  of  love.  And  it  has  been  a  prominent 
aim  of  the  translators,  to  present  such  themes  for  religious  thought, 
aa  shall  elicit  the  feelings  of  devotion,  and  give  nourishment  to  the 
meditative  spirit. 

The  translators  may  be  permitted  to  say,  that  they  have  had  in 
mind,  in  their  selections,  not  so  much  the  learned  scholar,  as  the 
great  mass  of  the  intelligent  and  educated  community.  They  could 
have  easily  selected  articles  of  a  higher  character,  in  respect  to 
learning  and  profoundness  of  investigation,  than  some  of  those  which 
have  been  chosen.  They  wished,  however,  to  benefit  a  larger  class 
than  would  be  attracted  by  mere  erudition  or  by  abstruse  researches. 
This  general  design  has  led  the  translators  to  annex  some  illustra- 
tive notes,  which  would  not  be  needed  by  the  advanced  scholar.1 
For  the  same  reason,  references  to  books,  quotations  from  foreign 
languages,  and  parenthetical  clauses  have  been  frequently  transfer- 
red from  the  text  to  the  bottom  of  the  page.  These  quotations  have 
generally,  also,  been  translated. 

A  word  in  respect  to  the  execution  of  the  work.  "  There  are  two 
methods  in  which  a  translator  may  proceed.  One  is,  to  give  simply 
the  sense  of  the  original  in  the  translator's  own  language  and  style  ; 
in  this  way  the  reader  obtains  the  thoughts  of  the  original  author,  but 
gains  no  acquaintance  with  his  style  and  manner  as  a  writer.  The 
other  mode  is  to  translate  the  language  of  the  original,  as  well  as  ex- 
press the  thoughts ;  so  that  the  writer  himself,  in  his  peculiar  modes 
of  thought  and  expression,  may  be  placed  before  the  reader.  In 
lighter  works,  the  former  method  may  be  sufficient ;  in  more  impor- 
tant ones  the  latter  is  alone  admissible.  Indeed,  so  much  often  de- 
pends on  the  shaping  of  the  thought  and  the  coloring  of  the  expres- 
sion, that  justice  cannot  be  done  to  a  writer  in  any  other  way."2 

1  For  instance,  the  testimonies  concerning  our  Lord  by  Josephus,  Tacitus, 
etc.  on  pp.  459—461 . 

*  Bib.  Repos.  IV.  241.  There  is  still  another  mode  in  which  translations 
have  been  attempted,  i.  e.  the  merely  verbal,  it  is  a  translation  of  words, 
and  of  nothing  else.  Of  this  class,  Dobson's  Translation  of  Schleiermacher'a 


INTRODUCTION. 


26 


"  There  are  two  maxims  of  translation,"  says  a  great  German 
critic  ;  "  the  one  requires  that  the  author  belonging  to  a  foreign  na- 
tion be  brought  to  us  in  such  a  manner  that  we  may  regard  him  as 
our  own ;  the  other,  on  the  contrary,  demands  of  us  that  we  trans- 
port ourselves  over  to  him,  and  adopt  his  situation,  his  mode  of 
speaking,  his  peculiarities.  The  advantages  of  both  are  sufficiently 
known  to  all  instructed  persons,  from  masterly  examples." 

The  translators  of  the  present  volume  have  attempted  a  medium 
between  these  two  modes.    The  nature  of  the  undertaking,  in  their 
opinion,  demanded  such  a  course.    They  have  endeavored,  on  the 
one  hand,  to  make  a  readable  book.    It  is  intended  mainly  for  those 
who  are  not  familiar  with  the  modes  of  thought  and  of  expression 
which  prevail  in  Germany,  and  who  would  throw  down  in  disgust 
a  translation  that  was  an  exact  copy  of  the  original.  Accord- 
ingly, long  and  involved  sentences  have  been  frequently  broken 
up.    In  some  cases  the  translators  have  been  compelled  to  express 
by  circumlocution,  that  which  in  the  original  is  indicated  by  a  single 
compound  word.    There  are  instances,  where  a  literal  translation 
would  convey  no  sense  whatever  to  an  English  reader.    In  such  in- 
stances a  slight  paraphrase  has  been  unavoidable.    Those  only  can 
understand  the  embarrassments  of  the  case  who  have  themselves 
attempted  a  similar  labor.    On  the  other  hand,  the  translators  have 
not  felt  themselves  authorized  to  adopt  a  perfectly  free  English 
version.  They  have  wished  to  preserve,  as  far  as  was  consistent  with 
perspicuity,  the  manner  of  the  original.    Such  writers  as  Riickert 
and  Ullmann  have  peculiarities  which  ought  not  to  be  wholly  merg- 
ed or  disguised.    The  refined  reasoning  which  is  found  in  some 
parts  of  their  writings  requires  that  their  mode  of  expression  should 
be  preserved.    A  perfectly  Anglo-Saxon  sentence  would  obliterate  a 
delicate  shade  of  thought.    It  is  better  sometimes  to  offend  a  criti- 
cal English  ear  than  to  sacrifice  the  sense  of  an  author.    There  are 
instances,  in  the  present  volume,  of  long  and  somewhat  intricate  sen- 
Introductions  to  the  Dialogues  of  Plato  is  a  specimen.  Not  a  few  of  the  sen- 
tences are  absolutely  unintelligible.    The  original  not  being  at  hand,  we 
have  been  compelled  to  copy  a  few  sentences  from  Mr.  Dobson's  work. 
They  may  be  found  on  pp.  377,  378,  379  of  the  present  volume.    We  have 
ventured  to  alter  the  form  of  the  sentences  somewhat.    We  fear,  however, 
that  the  reader  will  still  find  difficulty  in  understanding  them.    It  ought  to 
be  said  in  justification  of  Mr.  Dobson,  that  his  author  is  extremely  compli- 
cated in  his  modes  of  thought  and  style. 

4 


26 


INTRODUCTION. 


tcnces,  which  were  thought  to  be  necessary  in  order  to  preserve  the 
full  meaning  of  the  original.  The  German  particles,  like  those  of 
the  Greek,  not  unfrequently  connect  the  clauses  of  a  compound 
proposition  in  such  a  manner  as  to  render  a  division  into  indepen- 
dent sentences  impracticable.  The  editors  of  this  volume  can  only 
say,  that  thev  have  endeavored  to  make  it  acceptable  to  a  class  of 
readers,  whose  wants  have  not  hitherto  been  consulted  in  translations 
from  the  German.1 

The  translators  embrace  this  opportunity  to  repeat  a  remark  which 
is  made  several  times  in  the  sequel,  that  they  are  not  to  be  consider- 
ed as  responsible  for  particular  opinions  of  the  authors  whom  they 
have  translated,  nor  for  the  mode  in  which  a  thought  may  be  cloth- 
ed. They  believe  that  the  general  impression  of  the  book  will  be 
salutary,  and  that  all  the  articles,  taken  as  a  whole,  will  have  a  fa- 
vorable intellectual  and  moral  influence.  Still  not  a  few  things 
might  be  specified  which  indicate  lax  or  erroneous  habits  of  thinking 
on  the  part  of  the  authors.  Such  they  would  entirely  disclaim, 
lliickert,  for  instance,  as  is  remarked  on  another  page,  treats  the  in- 
spired writers  with  a  freedom  which  is  wholly  unjustifiable.  His 
Commentary  too  often  betrays  a  want  of  reverence  for  those  whom 
the  Holy  Spirit  infallibly  secured  from  error.  We  have  occasion- 
ally inserted  notes,  where  an  objectionable  sentiment  or  mode  of  ex- 
pression occurs.  It  must  not  be  inferred,  however,  that  we  approve 
in  every  case  where  we  are  silent.  All  which  is  necessary  is  that  the 
reader  should  be  aware  of  the  characteristics  of  his  author,  so  that 
he  may  make  all  suitable  allowances  and  exceptions.  Riickert  is 
apparently  a  conscientious  believer  in  the  evangelical  system,  and 
has,  as  we  should  infer  from  his  writings,  suffered  not  a  little  on  ac- 
count of  the  honest  and  bold  avowal  of  his  religious  convictions. 
We  cannot  but  admire  the  simplicity  and  straight-forwardness  of  his 
course.  His  guiding  principle  of  exposition  is:  "Employ  all  the 
proper  means  in  your  power  to  ascertain  the  true  sense  of  the  wri- 
ter ;  give  him  nothing  of  thine  ;  take  from  him  nothing  that  is  his. 
Never  inquire  what  he  ought  to  say  ;  never  be  afraid  of  what  he 
does  say."2    We  may  also  add  in  this  connection  that  we  do  not 


1  The  part  which  the  translators  ha^c  respectively  performed  in  the  pre- 
sent volume  is  indicated  by  the  initials  of  their  names  in  the  tahle  of  contents. 

2  See  p.  i.eq 


INTRODUCTION. 


27 


vouch  for  the  truth  of  any  of  the  hypotheses  of  Lange  in  the  article 
on  the  Resurrection  of  the  Body.1 

We  may  likewise  remark  that  we  do  not  consider  ourselves  re- 
sponsible for  the  offences  against  good  taste  which  may  be  found  in 
this  volume.  It  should  be  recollected  that  the  Germans  do  not  pay 
that  regard  to  the  canons  of  rhetoric  which  we  consider  to  be  indis- 
pensable. They  have  no  separate  department  for  it  in  their  schools 
and  universities.  Their  language  also  is  of  such  a  nature  as  scarcely 
to  allow  an  undeviating  system  of  rules.  Every  writer  suits  his  own 
judgment  or  convenience  in  this  respect.  The  language  is  so  duc- 
tile, so  susceptible  of  being  compounded,  as  to  render  a  fixed  stand- 
ard of  it  hardly  practicable.  This  accounts,  in  part,  both  for  the 
want  of  good  taste  in  German  treatises,  and  for  the  difficulties  of 
rendering  them  into  good  English.  At  the  same  time,  this  circum- 
stance imparts  a  freshness  and  vigor  to  the  German  style.  It  effec- 
tually breaks  up  a  dull  uniformity.  An  author  is  a  representative  of 
himself,  not  of  an  undeviating  method,  or  of  a  national  taste.  In 
German  writers  there  is  idiosyncrasy,  there  are  marked  individual 
peculiarities.  The  elasticity  and  freedom  of  thought  manifest  on 
literary  and  philosophical  subjects  seem  to  be  in  proportion  to  the 
constraint  which  exists  in  political  matters. 

In  conclusion,  the  translators  would  express  their  grateful  acknowl- 
edgements to  Professor  Stuart  for  his  valuable  advice  and  assis- 
tance in  repeated  instances.  They  are  under  special  obligations  to 
Professor  Sears  of  Newton,  who  has  permitted  them  to  have  free 
access  to  his  excellent  library,  and  who  has  generously  aided  them  by 
his  extensive  information  and  by  his  familiar  acquaintance  with  the 
German  language. 


1  See  the  Note  on  pp.  303,  304, 


LIFE,  CHARACTER,  AND  STYLE  OF  PAUL. 


DR.  A.  THOLUCK. 


REMARKS  ON  THE 


LIFE,  CHARACTER,  AND  STYLE  OF  THE 
APOSTLE  PAUL. 

DESIGNED  AS  AN 

INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  STUDY  OF  THE  PAULINE  EPISTLES.1 


CHAPTER  I. 

EARLY  LIFE  OF  THE  APOSTLE. 

Importance  of  this  investigation. — Time  of  Paul's  earliest  residence  at  Je- 
rusalem.— Object  of  it. — His  education  in  Greek  Literature. — Quotations 
from  the  Greek  Poets  — His  Greek  chirography. 

That  part  of  the  life  of  Paul,  which  is  delineated  in  the  book  of 
Acts,  and  which  relates  to  his  agency,  during  the  later  periods  of 
his  life,  in  preaching  the  Gospel,  has  been  fully  exhibited  in  modern 
works  as  in  those  of  Hemsen  and  Neander.2  Neander  in  particular 
has  examined  the  subject,  with  constant  reference  to  the  results, 
which  flow  from  it,  for  the  interpretation  of  the  sacred  writings. 
The  events  which  occurred  in  the  life  of  Paul  before  his  conversion, 
and  the  circumstances  of  his  early  training  have  not  been  investi- 
gated with  equal  accuracy.  Such  an  investigation,  however,  is 
needed  by  the  interpreter  of  Paul's  Epistles,  because,  by  means  of 
it,  the  whole  image  of  the  man  is  made  to  stand  out  so  much  the 

1  See  iSote  A.  at  the  close  of  this  Treatise. 

2  [Life  of  Paul,  by  Hemsen,  and  History  of  the  Establishment,  and  Progress 
of  the  Christian  Church,  by  Neander.  Heinsen's  account  of  Paul  s  early 
life  is  inserted  at  the  end  of  this  Treatise. — Tk.] 


32 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OP  PAUL. 


more  visibly  before  the  eye,  and  very  many  of  his  peculiar  charac- 
teristics are  so  much  the  more  easily  explained. 

In  reference  to  the  education  of  the  apostle,  the  first  question  of 
importance  is,  at  what  period  of  his  life  did  he  go  to  reside  at 
Jerusalem.  Eichhorn  and  Hemsen  suppose,  that  he  did  not  go  to 
reside  there  until  the  thirtieth  year  of  his  age.  As  at  the  time  of 
the  martyrdom  of  Stephen,  he  was  still  called  "  a  young  man,"1  and 
as  this  designation  supposes  that  he  might  then  have  been  in  his 
thirtieth  year,  but  could  not  have  exceeded  it  ;2  so  it  must  be  main- 
tained, according  to  these  writers,  that  he  went  to  Jerusalem  but  a 
short  time  before  this  martyrdom,  and  also  that  very  little  could  be 
said  concerning  any  influence  which  he  had  then  received  from  the 
school  at  Jerusalem,  and  from  Gamaliel.  But  how  can  we  adopt 
this  opinion,  when  the  apostle,  in  opposition  to  it,  utters  these  words, 
"  Born  indeed  in  Tarsus,  a  city  in  Cilicia,  yet  brought  up,  etva- 
js&Qvtfxnevog,  in  this  city  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel."3  It  follows  by 
necessity  from  this  passage,  that  the  apostle  went  to  the  capital  city 
in  the  period  of  his  boyhood.  How  early  in  his  boyhood,  cannot  be 
determined.  Certainly,  however,  too  early  a  date  must  not  be 
assigned,  as  Jerusalem  furnished  no  special  opportunity  for  the 
education  of  children.  Neither  in  their  capital  city,  nor  generally 
among  the  Jews,  do  schools  for  boys  and  children  appear  to  have 
been  in  existence  at  that  time.  They  were  first  established  shortly 
before  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  by  Jeschu  Ben  Gamla.  The 
training  of  lads  was,  until  this  period,  a  private  business,  and  com- 
mitted to  parents  and  friends.  We  may  therefore  fix  the  date  of 
Paul's  first  journey  to  Jerusalem,  at  that  period  of  his  youth,  when 
the  Rabbinical  system  of  education  began.  In  all  probability  Paul 
was  sent  to  the  capital  for  this  particular  object,  to  be  educated  by 
a  Rabbi.  The  assertion  of  Strabo,  that  the  inhabitants  of  Tarsus 
were,  as  a  general  thing,  led  by  their  love  of  learning  to  foreign 
cities  for  the  completing  of  their  education,  has  no  proper  reference 
to  Paul  and  to  his  countrymen  generally,  but  only  to  the  Greeks. 

1  Acts  7:  58. 

2  Zell.  in  his  Observations  on  Aristotle's  Ethics.  Vol.  II.  p.  14,  having 
occasion  to  explain  the  wide  extent  of  the  phrase  vio?  izcug,  makes  the  fol- 
lowing good  remark,  il  The  ancients  extended  the  period  of  youth  too  far  ; 
we  transgress  the  laws  of  nature,  in  making  this  period  too  short." 

3  See  Paul's  speech  recorded  in  Acts  22.  3. 


► 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL.  33 

The  study  of  the  Mishna  is  said  to  have  been  commenced  at  the 
tenth  year  of  the  child ;  at  his  thirteenth  year  he  became  a 
subject  of  the  law,  or  in  their  phraseology,  a  son  of  the  law.  Ac- 
cordingly we  may  determine,  that  Paul  went  to  reside  in  Jerusalem, 
at  some  period  between  the  tenth  and  thirteenth  year  of  his  life. 
And  as,  on  this  computation,  he  remained  somewhere  about  twenty 
years  under  the  guidance  of  the  teachers  in  the  capital,  and  es- 
pecially of  Gamaliel,  the  influence  of  this  education  upon  his 
character  must  have  been  important. 

Before  Paul  went  to  Jerusalem,  while  in  his  earliest  boyhood, 
we  cannot  suppose  that  he  received  any  education,  save  that  derived 
from  the  study  of  the  Old  Testament.  This  study  is  said  in  a  pas- 
sage of  the  Talmud1  to  have  commenced  as  early  as  the  fifth  year 
of  the  child.  The  expression,  also  "  From  a  child  thou  hast  known 
the  Holy  Scriptures,"2  shows  that  pious  parents  among  the  Jews 
instructed  the  minds  of  their  children,  at  a  very  early  age,  in  the 
sacred  writings.  The  strictest  class  prescribed,  that  the  child,  as 
soon  as  it  could  speak,  should  learn  the  "  Hear,  oh  Israel,"  etc.3 
The  apostle  did  not  probably  receive,  at  this  earliest  period  of  his 
youth,  an  education  in  Grecian  literature.  Even  if  it  be  granted, 
that  his  Hellenistic  parents  were,  in  this  respect,  less  strict  than 
others,  still  such  an  education  did  not  by  any  means  belong  to  so 
early  a  period  of  life. 

The  question  is  here  to  be  answered,  how  those  three  citations, 
which  we  find  in  Paul,  from  the  Greek  poets,  are  to  be  regarded.4 
It  is  now  supposed,  generally,  that  they  were  learned  from  social  in- 
tercourse, and  not  from  his  personal  reading.  In  regard  to  the  quo- 
tation from  Menander  and  Epimenides,  this  is  altogether  probable  ; 

1  In  Pirke  Aroth.  Ch.  5.  §  21,  Jehuda  Ben  Thema  prescribes,  "  At  five 
years  of  age  let  children  begin  the  Scripture;  at  ten,  the  Mishna;  at 
thirteen  be  subjects  of  the  law."  If  this  appointment  seems  to  assign  too 
early  a  period  of  life  for  such  a  study,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the 
Orientals  come  to  maturity  earlier  than  we  do,  and  that  the  thirteenth  year 
among  them  corresponds  at  least  with  the  fifteenth  among  us.  On  this 
account,  the  same  passage  in  the  Talmud,  which  has  been  alluded  to  above, 
designates  the  eighteenth  year  as  the  one  for  marriage. 

8  2  Tim.  3:  15. 

3  See  the  Treatise  of  Dassow,  entitled,  The  Hebrew  Infant  liberally  edu- 
cated. Wittemb.  1714. 

4  See  Note  B,  at  the  close  of  this  Treatise. 

5 


34 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


but  not  so  in  regard  to  that  from  Aratus.  That  passage  is  quoted 
precisely  according  to  the  text  ;*  and  from  its  own  nature  it  appears 
much  less  probable,  than  in  the  case  of  the  other  two,  that  it  was  in- 
troduced as  a  proverb  into  ordinary  intercourse.  Add  to  this  the 
fact,  that  Aratus  was  a  Cilician ;  so  that,  while  Paul  was  residing  in 
his  native  province,  the  works  of  the  poet  might  very  easily  have 
fallen  into  his  hands.  We  may  therefore,  perhaps  with  good  reason, 
suppose  that  the  apostle,  when  at  a  later  period  of  his  life  he  again 
took  up  his  abode  in  Cilicia,  became  acquainted  with  this  passage 
by  his  own  perusal  of  Aratus.  Why  should  we  hesitate  to  believe, 
that  this  man,  made  free  as  he  was  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ  from  the 
prejudices  of  the  Jews,  having  an  eye  so  freely  open  to  everything 
that  concerned  humanity,  and  especially  to  everything  that  stood 
related  to  his  office  ;  that  this  man,  during  his  residence  of  almost 
thirty  years  among  the  Hellenists,  should  now  and  then  have  opened 
and  read  one  of  their  books  ?  This  supposition  will  appear  still 
more  probable,  if  we  consider,  what  we  shall  prove  hereafter,  that 
even  Paul's  Jewish  teacher  was  not  averse  to  Grecian  culture.2 

The  idea,  that  the  apostle  had  such  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  literature  of  Greece,  would  have  indeed  the  less  probability,  if  it 
were  correct,  as  many  assert,  that  he  never  was  really  master  of 
the  Greek  chirography.    This  assertion  is  founded  on  Gal.  6:  ll.3 

We  would  not,  it  is  true,  directly  assert  with  Neander,4  that  the 
interpretation  which  Winer,  Riickert,  Usteri  give  of  that  passage, 
introduces  into  it  an  idea  which  is  unworthy  of  the  apostle,  but  the 
interpretation  appears  to  us  unintelligible.  The  large  size  and  mis- 
shapen form,  which  Paul  gave  to  the  Greek  letters,  is  mentioned  on 
the  supposition  of  those  interpreters,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  that 
the  chirography  occasioned  him  trouble  ;  that,  notwithstanding  the 
trouble,  he  had  written  ;  and  this  fact  would  be  good  evidence  of  his 
love  to  the  church.  But  if  the  apostle  designed  barely  to  express 
this  thought,  '  you  see  my  love  to  you,  that,  notwithstanding  I  am 

1  The  passnge  from  Aratus,  as  is  well  known,  corresponds  with  that  of 
Paul  even  to  the  yuy  ;  thus,  rov  ydg  nat  ytvog  tojutr,  while  for  example  the 
parallel  passer  in  Cleanthes  runs  thus,  iv.  oov  yd(j  ytvog  lofitv. 

2  See  note  C,  at  the  closo  of  this  Treatise. 

3  "  Ye  see  how  large  a  letter  1  have  written  unto  you,  with  mine  own 
hand."— Engl.  Tr. 

i  Age  of  the  Apostles,  Part  I.  p.  26o. 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


35 


able  to  write  only  in  an  unformed  hand,  I  have  yet  written  to  you,' 
then  he  expressed  himself  very  obscurely  and  ineptly,  when  he  said, 
"  you  see  with  what  long  letters  I  have  written  to  you  with  my  own 
hand."  We  wonder  how  Usteri  could  have  called  this  interpretation 
the  most  natural. 

When  we  compare  together  the  words  of  the  apostle  in  Gal.  6:  1, 
"  you  see  nyliy.oig  tfuv  ygafi/uaaiv  I  have  written  to  you  with  mine 
own  hand,"  and  the  words  in  2  Thess.  3:  17,  "  the  salutation  of  Paul 
with  mine  own  hand,  which  is  the  token  in  every  epistle ;  so  I 
write,"  should  not  the  first  thought  that  rises  in  our  minds  be,  that 
Paul  had  the  same  reason  for  mentioning,  in  the  former  passage, 
the  style  of  his  chirography,  that  he  had  for  mentioning  the  same 
in  the  latter  ?  If  we  ma)'  take  m/Xhog  in  the  sense  of  noiog,  the 
passage  is  easily  explained,  and  the  one  is  in  all  respects  parallel 
with  the  other.  That  this  interpretation  is  absolutely  inadmissible, 
cannot  be  easily  maintained.  According  to  the  Greek  gramma- 
rians,1 nrilUov  stands  also  for  noiov.  So  likewise  in  all  languages, 
the  significations  of  the  interrogative  pronouns  run  into  one  another. 
Even  the  Latin  style  of  the  second  (or  silver)  age  admitted  the 
word  quanti  instead  of  quot.  However  we  need  not  by  any  means 
suppose,  that  nrjXUov  expressed,  in  this  passage,  a  quality  that  was 
altogether  indeterminate.  If  the  great  size  of  his  alphabetic  charac- 
ters were  a  distinguishing  mark  of  the  hand-writing  of  Paul,  then 
the  expression  may  involve  a  reference  to  this  mark.  *  You  see 
with  what  characters,  that  is,  with  what  large  letters,  I  have  written 
to  you  with  mine  own  hand ;  from  this  circumstance  you  may  know 
that  this  letter  is  genuine.'2 

1  See  Etymologicum  Magnum. 

2  See  note  D,  at  the  close  of  this  Treatise. 


3G  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


CHAPTER  II. 

EARLY  LIFE  OF  THE  APOSTLE. 

Influence  of  the  instruction  which  Paul  received  in  the  Jewish  schools. — 
His  familiarity  with  the  Jewish  Scriptures. — Mode  in  which  he  was  taught 
to  study  thern. — Effect  of  this  mode.  —Resemblance  between  Paul  and 
Hamann. — Socratic  exercises  in  the  Jewish  schools;  their  influence. — 
Character  of  the  Jewish  teachers,  particularly  of  Gamaliel. 

Let  us  now  inquire  into  the  influence  of  the  instruction,  which  the 
apostle  received  in  the  capital  city. 

What  was  taught  in  the  kind  of  schools  in  which  he  received  his 
education  .?1  The  instruction  of  the  doctors  of  the  law,  and  Gama- 
liel was  one  of  these,2  consisted  exclusively  in  the  interpreting  of 
the  Scriptures.  The  object  of  this  interpretation  was,  partly,  to  de- 
velop from  the  inspired  word  the  prescriptions  of  ecclesiastical  law ; 
and  partly,  to  connect  with  biblical  interpretation  various  kinds  of 
instruction  in  ethical  science.  The  former  of  these  systems  of  in- 
struction was  called  the  Halache  ;  the  latter  was  called  the  Agadda. 
As  even  at  the  present  day  in  the  academies  called  Medressehs,  the 
young  men  among  the  Mohammedans  are  instructed  in  the  Koran, 
that  they  may  be  qualified  both  for  teachers  of  religion,  and  for  law- 
yers ;  so  likewise  the  young  men  among  the  Jews  were  instructed 
in  the  rules  for  the  allegorical  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures, 
adopted  by  the  Rabbins.3  We  must  not,  however,  conceive  of  this 
biblical  interpretation,  as  the  individual  work  of  the  Rabbi  who  was 
instructing  at  any  particular  period.  It  consisted  rather,  for  the 
most  part,  in  the  traditions  of  past  history,  respecting  the  opinions 
and  instructions  of  celebrated  Rabbins  upon  the  inspired  word. 

How  much  the  education  of  the  apostle  availed  for  giving  him  a 
comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  Bible,  we  perceive  in  his  remarka- 
bly copious  and  ready  use  of  all  parts  of  the  sacred  writings,  and  in 
the  additional  fact  that  he  ordinarily  quotes  from  memory.  Koppe, 
who  regards  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  as  the  production  of  Paul, 
has  collected  eighty-eight  quotations  from  the  Old  Testament,  of 

1  See  note  £,  at  the  close  of  this  Treatise.  2  Acts  5:  34. 

3  [Bolte  Hamedrasch  der  Rabbinen.  For  an  explanation  of  the  Midrasch, 
or  Midras,  see  Lightfoot's  Works,  Vol.  XII.  p.  96.— Tr.] 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


37 


which  it  is  thought  probable  that  at  least  forty-nine  were  cited  from 
memory.  Koppe  is  also  inclined  to  the  opinion,  and  so  likewise  are 
more  recent  interpreters,  as  Bleek,1  and  more  especially  Schnlz,2 
that  every  one  of  Paul's  citations,  without  an  exception,  is  made  from 
memory.  Bleek  has  also  shown  more  clearly  than  any  other,  that 
often  the  apostle's  memory  referred  not  to  the  text  of  the  Septuagint, 
but  to  that  of  the  original  Hebrew.  This  opinion  receives  probabili- 
ty from  the  fact  that  we  find  it  confirmed  in  the  case  of  John,  Mat- 
thew, and  other  writers  of  the  New  Testament.3  That  Paul  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  Jewish  traditions  is  evident  from  many  pas- 
sages in  his  writings,  as  for  example  2  Tim.  3:  8. 

The  instructions,  however,  which  were  derived  from  the  passages 
of  Scripture  produced  for  examination  in  the  Jewish  schools,  were 
derived  in  such  a  way,  as  to  increase  profoundness  of  thought  in 
minds  which  were  capable  of  it ;  but  more  especially  to  increase 
mental  acumen.  Very  easily,  also,  there  would  be  called  forth  a 
trifling  and  pragmatical  inquisitiveness,  that  would  press  single  letters 
in  all  ways.  Resemblances  in  words,  the  order  in  which  passages 
of  the  Bible  should  follow  each  other,  the  nature  of  particular  letters, 
alphabetical  alterations,  the  Greek  punctuation  of  the  Targum,  the 
sound  and  signification  of  similar  words  from  the  Aramaean  and 
Arabic,  must  have  served  as  the  points  to  which  the  instructions 
from  the  Bible  were  attached.  "  But  this  freedom  of  investigation 
would  neither  falsify  the  Scripture,  nor  take  away  its  appropriate 
meaning  ;  because  these  exercises  were  adopted  for  the  sake  of  free 
discussion,  not  of  a  blind  law.  The  more  extensive  the  field,  that 
each  man  had  for  mental  exercise  in  discussing  the  sacred  books  at 
the  Agadda,  so  much  the  less  authority  could  be  yielded  to  the  word 
of  a  single  individual.  The  Agadda,  therefore,  had  no  binding  au- 
thority at  all,  either  for  interpretation,  or  for  practice."4 

Most  commonly,  the  meaning  of  the  sacred  Scriptures  was  inves- 
tigated in  four  different  ways.  The  first  related  to  the  simple  his- 
torical meaning  of  words ;  the  second  to  the  higher  sense,  which 
was  intended  by  the  writers  themselves,  as  in  parables,  prophetic  vi- 
sions, etc. ;  the  third  to  the  higher  sense,  which  the  writers  them- 

1  See  Bleek's  Introduction  to  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  p.  343. 

2  See  the  Halle  Literary  Journal,  1829,  No.  104. 

3  See  the  discussion  of  this  subject  in  Eichhorn's  Bibliothek,  Vol.  II. 

*  Zung  on  the  Religious  Discourses  of  the  Jews.  Berlin,  1832,  p.  327. 


38 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


selves  did  not  intend,  but  which  seems  to  have  been  intimated  by  the 
Spirit  of  God  ;  and  the  fourth,  to  the  felicitous  combination  of  some 
one  truth  with  a  passage  of  Scripture,  so  as  to  manifest  the  intimate 
union  and  the  relation  of  dependence,  subsisting  between  the  former 
and  the  latter.1  In  the  treatment  of  the  sacred  writings,  it  was  es- 
teemed the  most  important  excellence  to  make  use  of  the  greatest 
possible  subtlety,  and  thereby  to  give  them  the  greatest  possi- 
ble copiousness  of  meaning.  The  later  Rabbins  boasted  that  they 
were  pipi72  ,  that  is,  they  exhibited  subtlety  in  the  interpretation  of 
the  Scriptures.2  So  likewise  Josephus3  asserts,  that  only  one  thing 
was  prized  by  the  Jews  as  it  should  be,  and  that  is,  the  man  who  is 
able  to  interpret  rightly  the  dvvapig  of  the  Scriptures.  "  They  ac- 
cord wisdom  to  him  only  who  clearly  understands  the  law,  and  is 
able  to  interpret  the  power  of  the  sacred  writings.1'  This  whole 
method  of  interpretation  is  among  us  decidedly  and  rightly  condem- 
ned, on  account  of  its  extravagances.  The  more  disproportionately 
the  whole  spiritual  life  of  the  Jews  was  confined  to  one  code  of  but 
limited  extent,  and  to  its  traditional  interpretation,  and  the  more  a 
pressing  of  the  letter  was  resorted  to  for  filling  up  what  was  wanting 
in  the  spirit,  so  much  the  more  did  their  interpretation  of  the  Bible 
become  a  caricature. 

There  are  two  things,  however,  which  we  must  not  forget.  One 
has  been  noticed  above,  that  these  subtle  interpretations  never  in  any 
way  made  pretensions  to  restore  the  real  meaning  of  the  author,  but 
claimed  to  be  allowed  merely  as  ingenious  fancies.  To  such  fancies 
we  may  properly  apply  the  remark  of  Cicero,  "  it  is  the  part  of  an 
ingenious  man  to  be  able  so  to  turn  the  force  of  a  word,  as  to  give  it 
a  different  meaning  from  what  others  assign  to  it."  The  other 
thought  is,  that  though  monstrous  and  ridiculous  specimens  of  trans- 
lating and  interpreting  language  are  found  in  the  works  of  most  Rab- 
bins, there  are  yet  various  exceptions.  By  some  this  method  of  in- 
terpreting is  employed  in  a  manner  no  less  profound  and  indicative 

1  The  first  of  these  modes  was  expressed  by  ttWB  ,  the  second  by  -no  , 
the  third  by  tnn  ,  the  fourth  by  T»n  .  The  whole  four  are  ordinarily  ex- 
pressed by  the  abbreviation  d"ThS  ,  paradise. 

2  What  Rabbi  Joshua  Levita,  in  his  m'o^Vfi  cVl*  130 ,  says  concerning 
the  manner,  in  which  the  Jewish  literati  labored  in  the  interpretation  of 
Scripture,  is  very  characteristic  of  the  mental  habits  of  the  older  Rabbins. 

3  See  his  Antiquities,  I.  xx.  c.  xi. 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


39 


of  genius,  than  is  done  by  Hamann,1  who,  in  the  same  way  as  the 
steel  upon  flintstone,  strikes  directly  upon  every  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture, so  as  to  bring  from  it  sparks  of  fire.  Attend  for  example  to  the 
following  remark  from  him,  which  while  it  throws  out  highly  significant 
allusions  on  all  sides,  expresses,  at  the  same  time,  in  a  manner  indica- 
tive of  profound  investigation,  a  thought  to  which  we  also  would  sub- 
scribe.2 "  Because  Moses,"  he  says,  "  places  the  life  in  the  blood, 
all  genuine  Rabbins  are  struck  with  horror  at  the  spirit  and  life  in 
the  prophets  ;  and  are  therefore  led  to  sacrifice  the  strict  meaning 
of  words,  as  the  only  darling  son  was  sacrificed  iv  TiaQafioXji,  Heb. 
11:  19,  and  they  convert  into  blood  the  streams  of  eastern  wisdom."3 

Shall  we  now  say,  that  the  influence  of  this  mode  of  education  on 
the  mind  of  the  apostle  is  manifest  ?  Certainly  every  reader  of  the 
Pauline  Epistles  can  adduce  many  passages  in  which  he  thinks  him- 
self able  to  perceive  such  an  influence.  Moreover,  if  we  will  once 
attend  to  the  fact,  that  the  characteristics  just  described,  predominated 
in  the  writings  and  schools  of  those  Jewish  literati,  then  the  influence 
of  the  apostle's  early  education  will  appear  to  be  the  key  to  the  mode 
in  which  he  treats  the  Old  Testament.  It  will  also  be  the  key  to  the 
subtlety  which  he  exhibits  in  many  other  respects. 

We  have  besides  no  inclination  to  oppose  the  idea  of  such  an  in- 
fluence. If  in  one  man,  James  for  instance,  the  operation  of  the 
more  ascetic  features  of  Pharisaism  is  conspicuous,  why  should  not 
the  operation  of  that  biblical  learning,  which  the  Pharisees  possessed, 
be  conspicuous  in  Paul  ?4    The  apostles,  so  far  as  the  form  is  con- 

1  See  Note  F,  at  the  close  of  the  Treatise. 

2  [The  analysis  of  this  singularly  figurative  passage  seems  to  be  the  follow- 
ing. '  Because  Moses  places  the  life  of  an  animal  in  the  blood,  which  may 
be  shed,  all  genuine  Rabbins  are  struck  with  horror  at  the  spiritual  life  which 
is  found  in  the  prophetical  writings,  and  therefore  wish  to  destroy  it.  As 
Isaac  was  sacrificed  figuratively,  (iv  naottfiokfi),  so  these  Rabbins  sacrifice 
the  strict  meaning  of  words  by  resorting  to  allegory  ;  and  as  the  Life  of  these 
passages  is  thus  taken  away,  the  wise  instructions  of  the  Orientals  appear, 
under  the  Rabbinical  commentary,  to  be  but  puerile  trifling.  The  streams 
of  wisdom  are  made  dark  with  blood,"1  as  so  much  blood  has-been  shed,  i.  e. 
life  of  style  destroyed  by  false  interpretation.  There  seems  to  be  a  play 
upon  the  word,  blood,  throughout  the  passage. — Tr.] 

3  See  Note  G,  at  the  close  of  the  Treatise. 

4  Schneckenburger,  in  the  treatise  entitled,  "  Were  the  Pharisees  Reli- 
gious Philosophers,  or  Ascetics,"  has  made  the  assertion  that,  as  Pharisees, 


10 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


cerned  in  which  they  stated  heavenly  truth,  stand  in  intimate  histori- 
cal connection  with  their  times  and  their  people.  Yet  we  cannot, 
like  several  modern  theologians,  rest  contented  with  merely  this  re- 
mark. From  what  we  already  know,  we  find  ourselves  compelled, 
by  the  relation  in  which  the  apostles  stood  to  the  christian  system  of 
faith,  a  relation  in  which  the  Lord  himself  had  placed  them,  as  the 
preachers  of  his  word,  as  those  who  were  commissioned  to  succeed 
him,  and  to  carry  on  his  own  work  ;  we  find  ourselves  compelled  to 
deny  that  there  was  any  such  influence  of  temporary  and  national 
forms,  as  to  modify  the  substance  of  their  doctrine.  Indeed  the  de- 
cisions on  this  subject,  may  be  established  not  barely  a  priori,  but  in 
view  of  that  which  lies  actually  before  us  in  the  apostolical  writings. 
With  our  eye  fixed,  then,  on  these  writings,  we  maintain,  that  the 
subtle  methods  of  interpretation  which  we  find  in  the  Jewish  schools, 
and  which  the  apostle  had  there  appropriated  to  himself,  were  em- 
ployed by  him  in  such  a  way,  that  the  true  idea  can  in  no  passage 
be  mistaken.  This  is  the  fact,  although,  according  to  the  historical 
connection  in  which  the  passages  occur  in  the  Old  Testament,  only 
a  single  point  is  given,  that  can  furnish  support  for  the  inference 
which  the  apostle  has  derived  from  them.  But  should  it  not  be  the 
direct  object  of  the  pure  interpretation  of  the  Old  Testament,  to  dis- 
play the  full  picture  that,  in  its  first  rudiments,  was  faintly  repre- 
sented in  the  preparative  economy  ?  The  manner  which  Paul  adopt- 
ed, may  indeed  be  exhibited,  most  happily,  in  cases  where  he  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  interpretation  of  the  written  code,  but  with 
the  record  which  is  inscribed  upon  the  heart  of  every  man.  When 
Paul  infers  from  the  inscription  on  the  altar,  "  to  the  unknown  God,"1 
that  the  heathen  acknowledged  their  ignorance  of  the  true  God,  it 
cannot  be  proved  that  such  an  acknowledgement  lies  in  the  express 
terms  of  that  inscription.  If,  however,  the  heathen,  besides  the 
names  of  thousands  of  divinities,  had  also  an  idea  of  divinely  opera- 
ting powers,  for  which  they  had  no  name  ;  and  if  to  these  unknown 
powers  they  erected  altars,  do  they  not  thereby,  in  the  reason  of  the 

they  were  mere  ascetics.  But  this  assertion  is  not  entirely  correct;  for  the 
above  mentioned  acute  discrimination  in  interpreting  the  law  was  found  in 
their  schools.  It  is  only  correct,  so  far  as  the  philosophy  of  religion,  if  we 
choose  to  retain  this  phrase,  was  not  absolutely  requisite  in  order  to  become 
a  Pharisee. 

1  Acts  17:  23. 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


41 


thing,  make  a  confession  that  their  knowledge  of  God  is  defective  ? 
And  has  not  the  apo3tle,  with  the  noblest  and  the  most  profound  wis- 
dom, made  use  of  this  very  point,  for  the  purpose  of  attaching  to  it 
such  evidence,  as  would  show  to  the  heathen,  what  is  the  view  and 
the  longing  of  their  inward  souls  ?  Now  the  education,  which  the 
apostle  received  at  the  Pharisaical  school  of  Jerusalem,  must  have 
aided  him  in  this  kind  of  acute  and  profound  interpretation,  after  he 
had  been  once  enlightened  by  the  Spirit.  Hamann  also  interpreted 
Rabbinically,  if  you  please  so  to  speak,  and. he  not  only  interpreted 
the  Bible  in  this  way,  but  also  the  works  of  genius  of  all  men  and  all 
times.  But  who  has  not  pursued,  with  astonishment  and  with  true 
instruction,  those  hints,  among  which  every  block  of  marble  be- 
comes a  statue  of  Memnon  ?  Wherever  in  fact  the  luminary  of 
Jesus  rises,  there  many  phenomena  of  nature  and  of  the  history  of 
man,  which  otherwise  had  remained  forever  dumb,  begin  to  be  heard. 
In  this  also  the  remark  holds  true,  (that  is  made  in  Note  G),  one 
must  know  how  to  interrogate,  (or  he  cannot  receive  an  answer). 

We  are  not  obliged,  however,  to  look  around  us  for  other  men, 
possessing  merely  human  greatness,  by  whose  authority  we  may 
defend  the  method  adopted  by  Paul.  Does  not  Christ  follow  essen- 
tially the  same  usage,  as  for  instance  in  Luke  20:  37,  Mark  9:  13  ? 
In  reference  to  these  passages,  indeed,  we  are  to  hold  fast  the  theo- 
logical distinction  between  him  and  his  apostles,  that  he  had  an  in- 
sight which  they  had  not,  into  the  historical  relations  of  the  inspired 
passages,  which  were  quoted.  The  proof  of  this  statement,  to 
which  many  are  disinclined  to  give  their  assent,  does  not  belong  to 
this  place. 

The  Jewish  system  of  instruction  gave  keenness  to  the  pupil's 
mind  in  another  way.  The  instruction  was  not  given  in  the  form  of 
oral  lectures  but  catechetically,  and  so  that  not  merely  the  teacher 
proposed  questions  to  the  scholars,  but  the  scholars  to  the  teachers, 
and  to  the  remaining  fellow  pupils.  We  have  an  instance  of  this  in 
the  scene  of  the  child  Jesus  in  the  temple.1    And  this  mode  of 

1  Frequently  in  the  Talmud  is  it  said  of  the  pupils,  "  they  proposed  to  him 
the  question,"  or  "  he  proposed  to  him  the  question."  The  answers  are  de- 
signated by  the  word  la^MS  "they  replied."  Even  yet  the  Jews  call  such 
Socratic  exercises,  Kaschen,  from  irjliSp  difficult.  To  such  questions,  if  the 
solution  cannot  be  found,  the  abbreviation  -,pri  is  applied,  which  is  the  same 
as  to  say,  "  The  Tishbite  (Elias)  will  solve  the  difficulties  and  questions." 

6 


42 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


teaching  was  not  confined  merely  to  the  rules  for  allegorical  inter- 
pretation laid  down  in  the  Midras,  but  even  the  discourses  in  the  syn- 
agogue might  be  interrupted  by  questions,  or  when  the  discourses 
were  concluded,  the  hearer  might  propose  some  difficult  inquiries, 
as  is  done  even  at  the  present  day  in  the  Jewish  synagogue.  A 
complete  system  of  Rabbinical  dialectics  was  formed  in  this  way  ; 
and  we  need  but  a  moderate  acquaintance  with  the  Talmudic  wri- 
tings, to  be  convinced  of  the  great  error  into  which  Eichhorn  fell, 
when  he  supposed  that  the  dialectics  of  the  apostle  must  have  pro- 
ceeded from  the  schools  of  heathen  philosophers.  So  far  from  this, 
the  apostle's  logic  bears,  throughout,  the  impress  of  Judaism.  This 
is  indicated  by  many  things,  particularly  by  his  abrupt  mode  of  ex- 
pressing himself.1  In  general,  also,  the  antithetic  and  piquant  style 
of  instruction  that  he  adopted,  may  be  ascribed  to  the  influence  of 
his  Jewish  culture. 

This  Rabbinical  education  however,  as  has  been  already  express- 
ed, had  not  the  same  character  in  all  schools.  It  depended  essentially 
upon  the  peculiar  mental  habit  of  the  instructor.  Even  in  the  first 
centuries  after  Christ,  as  well  as  in  later  periods,  we  find  three 
classes  of  Jewish  teachers.  The  first  class  had  an  inclination  to  the 
spiritless  and  literal ;  the  second  class  to  a  freer  and  more  soul-mov- 
ing style,  like  that  of  the  Old  Testament,  a  style  in  which  the  inte- 
rest in  the  moral  was  predominant ;  and  the  third  adopted  the  style 
of  mystical  theosophyJ2  We  always  conceive  of  a  Jewish  scribe, 
as  one  who  adheres  to  the  dead  letter,  and  who  is  also,  probably,  a 
hypocrite.  The  opposite  might  be  learned,  with  sufficient  clearness, 
from  Nicodemus  and  Joseph  of  Arimathea.  That  the  Pharisees 
are  not  all  to  be  regarded  as  hypocrites,  is  evident  from  that  well 
known  passage  in  the  Talmud,  in  Tractate  Sota,  which  introduces  se- 
ven classes  of  Pharisees.  Five  of  these  are  hypocritical ;  while  of 
the  sixth  it  is  said,  they  are  Pharisees  from  love  to  the  recompense 
of  God  ;3  and  of  the  seventh,  they  are  Pharisees  from  the  fear  of  God.4 

1  "  His  method  of  discussion,"  remarks  Michaeli?,  very  correctly,  in  his 
Introduction,  Part  1,  p.  105,  "has  very  often  that  Jewish  brevity,  which 
leaves  the  reader  many  things  to  supply  of  himself,  and  which  we  see  in  the 
Talmud."  We  are  initiated  into  the  principles  of  this  logic,  and  especially 
its  terms,  by  Bashuysen,  in  his  Clavis  Talmudica  Maxima,  Panoviae  1714. 
With  this  also  may  be  connected  Buxtorf 's  Abbreviaturae. 

2  See  Note  H,  at  the  close.  3  riant*)?  .  4  nan-"^  • 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL.  43 

To  this  is  added,  in  the  same  place,  "  Be  not  afraid  of  the  Pharisees, 
nor  of  those  who  are  not  Pharisees,  but  of  those  who  are  disguised 
so  as  to  be  like  the  Pharisees." 

The  narratives  of  the  Jews  inform  us  of  several  distinguished  Is- 
raelites, who  lived  about  the  time  of  Christ,  and  possessed  true  vir- 
tue and  piety.    Of  the  Cabbalistic  school  were  Honias  Ben  Hacana 
and  Hanan  Ben  Dosa ;  of  the  school  of  the  Pharisees  were  Jona- 
than Ben  Saccai,  Simeon  Ben  Hillel,  Gamaliel  the  Elder,  who  was 
teacher  of  the  apostle,  and  his  son  Rabbi  Simeon.1    We  must  sup- 
pose, indeed,  that  this  very  Gamaliel  had  distinguished  himself  by 
pure  virtue  and  piety,  as  he  stood  so  high  among  the  people,  al- 
though he  did  not  adopt  the  principles  of  narrow-hearted  Pharisa- 
ism.   In  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  it  is  said,2  that  he  was  "  had  in 
reputation  among  all  the  people."    According  to  the  accounts  in  the 
Talmud,  which  agree  with  this,  he  was  called  "  the  glory  of  the  law," 
and  they  have  the  saying,"  since  Rabbi  Gamaliel  died,  the  glory  of  the 
law  has  ceased."3    If  we  may  credit  the  account  in  Tractate  Gittin, 
Fol.  36:  2,  this  estimable  man  had  gained  even  the  esteem  of  Titus. 
There  are  various  features  of  his  conduct,  that  show  how  free  he 
was  from  the  ordinary  narrow-heartedness  of  the  Pharisees.  He 
had  on  his  seal  a  small  image,  which  would  have  been  rejected  with- 
out doubt  by  the  Pharisees  generally.    The  Talmud  mentions  con- 
cerning him,  that  he  took  an  especial  pleasure  in  the  beauties  of  na- 
ture, a  trait  which  is  likewise  contrary  to  the  bigoted  spirit  of  Pha- 
risaism.   He  studied  Greek  authors,  and  his  freedom  of  spirit  went 
so  far,  that  he  did  not  hesitate  while  at  Ptolemais,  to  bathe  in  an  apart- 
ment where  stood  a  statue  to  Venus.  Being  asked  by  a  heathen,  how 
he  could  reconcile  this  with  his  law,  he  gave  the  liberal  and  sensible 
answer :    4<  The  bath  was  here  before  the  statue  ;  the  bath  was  not 
made  for  the  service  of  the  goddess,  but  the  statue  was  made  for  the 
bath."    The  style  in  which  we  hear  him  speak  before  the  Sanhe- 
drim concerning  the  course  to  be  taken  with  the  germinating  Chris- 
tian religion,  agrees  remarkably  with  these  features  of  his  character. 
His  expression,  in  this  case,  is  indeed  one  which  could  not  be  ex- 
pected from  the  mouth  of  an  ordinary  Pharisee. 
Now,  such  learned  men  among  the  Jews,  as  possess  this  enlarged 


1  See  Note  I,  at  the  close. 
3  See  Note  K,  at  the  close. 


2  Acts  5:  34. 


41 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


mental  character  are  usually  the  authors  of  beautiful  moral  senten- 
ces or  treatises.  The  style  too,  in  which  they  interpret  the  Old 
Testament,  is  very  diverse  from  the  insipid  style  of  the  mere  literal 
interpreters.  Certainly  then  we  may  suppose,  that  such  instruction 
exerted  a  wholesome  influence  upon  the  susceptible  heart  of  young 
Paul.  Religion  was  exhibited  to  him,  not  merely  as  a  matter  of 
dead  speculation,  but  as  a  concern  of  the  life.  According  to  that 
interpretation  of  2  Tim.  1:  3  which  we  believe  to  be  the  correct  one, 
Paul  testifies  that  his  ancestors  practised  the  devout  worship  of  God, 
and  that  they  transmitted  their  religious  influence  to  him.  That 
he  had  preserved  this  pious  sentiment  in  its  purity,  that  he  had 
served  God  according  to  the  best  of  his  knowledge  through  his  whole 
life,  that  he  had  surpassed  his  contemporaries  in  zeal  for  religion,  is 
evident  from  Acts  26:  4,  5.  22:  3.23:  1.  Gal.  1:  14.  More  than  all 
other  passages,  Rom.  vii.  shows  him  to  have  been  a  Jew,  who  not 
merely  bore  piety  upon  the  lips,  but  earnestly  proposed  to  himself 
the  laborious  acquisition  of  a  pure  and  unstained  manner  of  life. 


CHAPTER  in. 

CHARACTER  OF  THE  APOSTLE. 

Doctrine  of  Temperaments.  —  Physical  Temperament  of  Paul ;  of  ecclesias- 
tical reformers  generally. — Influence  of  the  apostle's  temperament  upon 
his  mental  and  religious  character.  His  strictness  ;  persecuting  spirit. — 
Comparison  between  him  and  Luther. — Penetration,  comprehensive  views, 
logical  reasoning,  ardor,  vigor,  urbanity,  affection,  tenderness  of  Paul. 

A  correct  view  of  the  peculiarities  belonging  to  the  constitution 
and  temperament  of  the  apostle,  is  desirable  for  all  those  who  under- 
take the  interpretation  of  his  writings.  There  are  many,  who  are 
displeased  with  the  employment  of  the  usual  names  of  the  tempera- 
ments on  this  subject,  as  offensive  ideas  are  included  under  these 
designations,  in  their  popular  and  unscientific  use.  This  use  fixes 
itself  on  barely  a  single  meaning,  which  is  made  disagreeably 
prominent.  It  is  even  held,  in  opposition  to  remarks  upon  the 
temperament  of  the  apostles,  that  an  accurate  division  of  the  tem- 
peraments has  never  been  made.    This,  however,  cannot  induce  us 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


45 


to  abstain  from  the  current  terminology  on  this  subject.  We  are  of 
the  opinion,  that  the  so-called  four  temperaments  designate  the  four 
fundamental  peculiarities  in  the  nature  of  man,  as  composed  of  soul 
and  body.  We  think  the  idea  which  Heinroth1  has  given  of  them 
in  his  Anthropology,  to  be  a  most  excellent  one.  The  representa- 
tion of  Heinroth,  which  exhibits  in  so  able  a  manner,  the  connection 
between  the  temperaments  and  the  various  national  characters, 
religious  dispositions,  and  studies  in  the  arts,  convinces  the  mind  at 
once,  that  the  old  fourfold  division  of  these  temperaments  has  not 
been  made  arbitrarily.  We  presuppose  in  our  present  remarks  an 
acquaintance  with  the  section,  that  is  now  referred  to,  in  Heinroth's 
Anthropology.2 

11  WTe  see  in  Paul,"  says  Hug,  "  a  temperament  entirely  choleric." 
In  this  decision  we  acquiesce  only  half-way.  We  think  that  the 
peculiarities  of  the  melancholic  temperament  are  found  in  the 
apostle  in  an  equal  degree  with  those  of  the  choleric.  The  melan- 
cholic temperament  is  everywhere  characterized  by  this,  that  in- 
stead of  dissipating  the  mind  through  the  world  that  is  without,  it 
brings  the  mind  back  to  the  inner  world,  to  the  depths  of  its  own  bo- 
som. On  this  account,  there  is  connected  with  it,  if  not  a  gloomy  yet 
a  prevailing  serious  view  of  things.  Not  dissipated  by  the  variety  of 
objects  in  the  world,  the  mind  directs  itself  to  the  essential  interests 
of  human  life,  and  therefore  a  habit  of  speculation,  ordinarily  in  the 
form  of  theosophy,  and  also  a  religious  feeling,  are  in  general  found 
to  be  intimately  connected  with  this  temperament.  The  choleric 
disposition  directs  the  mind  especially  to  the  world  without ;  not  as 
the  sanguine  for  the  purpose  of  receiving,  but  for  the  purpose  of 
communicating;  not  of  enjoying  the  world  and  mankind,  but  of 
operating  upon  them  and  of  governing  them.  The  melancholic 
temperament,  operating  without  a  mixture  of  the  others,  has  pro- 
duced those  men,  who,  in  their  eminent  degree  of  love  to  God,  have 
occupied  the  solitary  cell,  and  there  consumed  themselves  with 
sorrow  and  fervid  passion  in  the  capacity  of  religious  mystics.  The 
choleric  temperament  has  produced  those  heroes  in  the  history  of 

1  See  Note  L,  at  the  close  of  this  Treatise. 

2  As  early  a  writer  as  Albert  Durer,  described  the  apostles  according  to 
their  temperaments.  Paul  is  described  as  melancholic,  John  as  sanguine, 
etc.  A  treatise  on  the  temperaments  of  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament 
by  Gregory  is  found  in  the  Thesaurus  novus,  Vol.  11.  Amsterdam. 


46  UFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 

the  world,  who,  on  the  broad  theatre  of  the  same,  have  ruled  and 
transformed  nations  and  ages.  From  the  union  of  the  one  with  the 
other  have  proceeded  religious  reformers.  The  religious  reformer 
must  have  looked  deeply  into  his  own  heart.  He  must  understand 
what  is  an  inward  life.  He  must  also  in  an  equal  degree  desire  to 
procure  currency  among  his  brethren,  for  that  which  he  had  ex- 
perienced to  be  truth  within  his  own  soul. 

The  characters  of  those  men  who  have  been  reformers  in  the 
church,  bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  each  other.  In  every  one  of 
them  there  was  the  united  operation  of  both  these  temperaments. 
Let  Paul,  Augustine,  and  Luther  be  compared  together.1  We  here 
include,  of  course,  under  the  term  reformers,  not  barely  such  men 
as,  while  they  were  alive,  have  made  their  influence  visible  in  great 
circles,  but  also  the  men  whose  spiritual  preeminence  has  continued 
even  for  centuries  after  they  were  removed  from  the  theatre  of 
action. 

The  decided  religious  tendency  of  the  apostle,  conjoined  with  that 
energy  of  execution,  which  is  peculiar  to  the  choleric  temperament, 
we  first  discern  in  the  fact,  that  he  attached  himself  to  that  religious 
party  among  his  people,  which  was  considered  the  most  decided, 
and  was  the  most  rigorous.  He  himself  appealed  to  this  circum- 
stance, in  his  defence  before  Agrippa.2    He  there  says  that  he  had 

1  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  while  in  other  instances  the  corporeal 
for/n,  as  the  shadow  of  the  spirit,  bears  a  resemblance  to  the  mental  charac- 
ter, those  strong-minded  men  who  have  altered  the  world's  history,  have 
fully  as  often  been  diminutive  as  athletic  in  their  outward  structure. 
Notwithstanding  all  the  internal  resemblance  between  Luther  and  Paul,  they 
must  in  their  external  appearance  have  been  altogether  dissimilar.  They 
were  dissimilar  not  barely  in  respect  to  the  whole  figure,  which  in  the  case 
of  Paul  was  diminutive,  2  Cor.  10:  10,  but  also  in  respect  to  their  utterance, 
as  we  may  learn  from  the  verse  just  cited,  and  in  respect  to  physiognomy, 
if  we  may  trust  the  description  which  is  given  of  Paul  in  the  dialogue  of 
Philopatris,  in  the  time  of  Julian.  This  speaks  of  him  as"  the  Galilean  with 
the  bald  head  and  the  aquiline  nose."  Even  the  antiquated  Vassari,  in  his 
memoir  of  Brunelleschi,  the  man  who  constructed  the  celebrated  arch  in  the 
cupola  at  Florence,  an  architect  gigantic  in  his  works,  though  not  in  his 
form,  makes  the  interesting  remark,  'Many  are  created  with  small  stature 
and  diminutive  features,  who  have  such  greatness  of  mind,  and  such  incon- 
ceivable, idomitable  energy  of  heart,  that  they  will  never  give  themselves 
rest,  unless  they  commence  undertakings,  which  are  difficult  and  almost 
impossible,  and  finish  them,  to  the  wonder  of  all  who  behold.' 

2  Acts  26:  5. 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


47 


attached  himself  to  the  most  exact  sect ;  and  after  he  had  chosen 
this  as  his  party,  he  surpassed  in  zeal  most  of  his  contemporaries. 
When  the  religion  of  his  fathers  was  brought  into  peril  by  the 
Christians,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  service  of  the  high  council,  for 
the  purpose  of  crushing  the  new  sect.  At  first  he  persecuted  them 
at  Jerusalem,  yea  he  compelled  them  to  utter  blasphemies  against 
the  crucified  Messiah.  As  he  had  not  done  enough  at  the  capital  to 
gratify  his  rage,  he  hastened  to  Damascus.1 

The  contradiction  which  appears  in  this  respect  between  the 
apostle's  zeal  and  the  tranquil  character  of  his  teacher  Gamaliel, 
may  surprise  us.  Men,  however,  who  have  a  character  like  that  of 
Paul,  are  also  independent.  If  in  Gamaliel,  whom  we  may  more 
properly  compare  with  Erasmus,  we  could  suppose  that  there  ex- 
isted the  delicate  introverted  mind  of  Staupitz  (Luther's  instructor,) 
then  we  should  see  in  the  relation  of  our  German  reformer  to  this 
his  teacher,  a  representative  of  Paul  and  his  teacher.  The  general 
current  of  Luther's  life  presents  very  many  points  of  comparison 
with  Paul.  As  long  as  he  was  in  the  way  of  the  law,  he  exhibited 
the  same  earnestness  of  conflict,  as  we  see  described  in  the  seventh 
of  Romans  ;  afterwards  he  exhibited  the  same  bold  freedom  which 
appears  in  Paul. 

If  we  wish  to  determine  what  are  the  principal  characteristics  of 
the  converted  apostle,  as  they  are  exhibited  in  his  writings  and 
speeches,  our  examination  will  especially  exhibit  the  following. 
With  deep  penetration,  as  it  may  be  expected  of  one  accustomed  to 
an  inward  life,  he  seized  hold  of  those  religious  truths,  which  had 
been  communicated  to  him  by  the  Revelation  of  the  Lord.  No  one 
can  fail  to  observe  the  rich  speculative  contents  of  his  Epistles,  and 
the  great  difference  which  appears  in  this  respect,  between  him  on 
the  one  hand,  and  Peter  and  James  on  the  other.  John  indeed 
touches  upon  subjects  like  those  of  Paul,  for  John  also  is  speculative.2 
While,  however,  with  John  all  religious  knowledge  goes  into  the 
form  of  a  few  antitheses,  relating  indeed  to  the  infinite,  such  an- 
titheses as  light  and  darkness,  life  and  death,  love  and  hatred,  the 
children  of  God  and  the  children  of  the  devil,  remaining  in  Christ 
and  living  without  him  ;  the  view  of  Paul  embraces  in  its  full  con- 

1  Acts.  26:  10—12. 

2  [Speculative ;  interested  in  meditating  on  things  above  the  sphere  of 
sense  ;  accustomed  to  investigate  spiritual  subjects. — Tr.] 


48 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


nection  the  eternal  decree  of  God,  which  has  been  kept  secret  from 
the  foundation  of  the  earth  ;  which  was  signified  by  the  prophets, 
which  in  Christ  Jesus  was  manifested  in  the  world,  and  which,  since 
it  has  been  exhibited  to  mankind,  has  made  known  even  to  the 
spirits  in  heaven,  the  manifold  wisdom  of  God.1 

That  venerable  German  metaphysician,  who  in  his  retirement 
prepared,  a  number  of  years  ago,  a  christian  philosophy,  and  gave 
to  this  new  form  of  his  system  the  name  of  the  "  historical  philoso- 
phy," had  then  in  view,  as  we  may  say,  for  his  precursor  and  ex- 
emplar, the  apostle  to  the  Gentiles.  In  Paul's  model-system  of 
doctrine  there  is  laid  down  a  philosophy  of  the  history  of  the  world. 
He  everywhere  proceeds  on  the  ground  of  the  eternal  plan  of  God, 
in  which  Christ  is  the  central-point,  and  at  the  same  time  the  key  to 
the  mysteries  of  the  past  and  the  future.  "  Before  the  foundation 
of  the  world  was  laid,  we  were  chosen  in  Christ."2  Before  the  fall 
of  Adam  therefore  Christ  was  constituted  the  riXog  of  the  history  of 
man  ;  the  prae  of  time  expresses  also  a  prae  of  relation.  At  the 
definite  period  which  had  been  determined  by  God,  "  in  the  fulness 
of  time,"  this  being  on  whom  the  history  of  the  world  revolves  was 
introduced  among  men.3  And  in  some  passages,  Paul,  looking 
forward  and  backward,  gives  the  destination  of  both  heathenism  and 
Judaism  in  reference  to  this  turning  point  of  history.4  In  the  eleventh 
of  Romans  he  lifts  the  veil,  which  conceals  the  future  progress  of 
the  race  in  this  life,  and  lets  the  consideration  of  the  whole  temporal 
development  of  the  great  divisions  of  this  race,  as  this  development 
relates  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  terminate  in  the  expression,  "  Of 
him  and  through  him  and  to  him  are  all  things."5  In  the  15th  chap- 
ter of  1  Corinthians,  however,  the  view  of  Paul  is  raised  above  the 
future  periods  of  the  present  life,  into  a  futurity  still  more  remote, 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  time  ;  and  he  concludes  this  view  in  the 
twenty  eighth  verse,  with  the  sentence,  "  So  shall  God  be  all  in  all." 

As  it  is  only  this  apostle  who  makes  use  of  the  expression,  con- 
densing into  three  words  time  and  eternity,  "  Of  him,  and  to  him, 
and  through  him  (slg  aviov,  into  him)  are  all  things,"6  so  it  is  only 

1  Rom.  6:  25,  26.  Ephes.  1:  9—12.  3=  8—11.  2  Eph.  1:  4. 

3  Gal.  4:  4.  1  Tim.  2:  6.  Titus  1:  3. 

4  Acts  17:  26,  27.  Rom.  i.  Gal.  3:  24.  Rom.  vii.        5  Rom.  11:  36. 

c  "  Thou,  with  whom  all  good  things  end  and  begin,"  is  an  expression  of 
Dante,  addressed  to  Jehovah,  in  imitation  of  the  above  quoted  passage  of 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


49 


this  apostle,  before  whose  eye,  as  he  glances  at  the  central  point  of 
the  world's  development,  there  is  always  spread  out  the  beginning 
and  the  end  of  this  development. 

The  mode  of  considering  a  subject,  adopted  by  Paul,  differs 
moreover  from  the  mode  adopted  by  John  in  the  following  respect. 
All  antitheses,  as  generally  all  single  topics,  whose  limits  run  into 
one  another  as  John  looks  upon  them,  appear  to  Paul  definitely 
separated  from  one  another.  As  the  form  of  his  discourses,  so  like- 
wise his  train  of  thought  moves  on  dialectically.  Paul  therefore  has 
been  at  all  times  the  favorite  author  of  the  thinking,  as  John  has 
been  of  the  feeling  Christian. 

Further,  the  prominent  quality  in  the  writings  of  Paul  is  ardor 
and  power.  As  was  said  of  Luther's  style,  so  it  may  be  said  of 
Paul's,  it  is  a  continual  battle  (Schlacht).1  In  the  letters  which  were 
written  from  imprisonment,  when  he  bore  the  chains  upon  his  hands, 
in  what  a  glowing  style  does  every  word  speak  forth  his  longing, 

the  apostle.  Out  of  Paul's  writings  there  is  only  one  expression,  which  ac- 
cords with  this  passage.  That  is  found  in  Heb.  2:  10.  But  this  epistle  has, 
in  other  respects,  the  character  of  a  work  belonging  to  a  disciple  of  Paul. 
Moreover,  the  St  ov  in  that  passage  deviates  from  the  style  of  Paul.  The 
remarkable  ei'g  avtov,  from  which  originated  Augustine's  immortal  expres- 
sion, "  Thou,  God,  hast  made  us  for  thee,  therefore  our  heart  is  not  at  rest, 
until  it  rest  in  thee,"  is  also  found  in  Acts  17:  26,  27. 

[Tholuck  means,  probably,  that  the  idea  which  he  would  attach  to  the 
phrase  slg  avtov,  is  also  expressed  in  this  passage  from  Acts  ;  and  particu- 
larly in  the  words,  "that  they  should  seek  the  Lord,"  tend  to  him,  and 
"  find  him,"  come  near  him,  so  that  they  may  spiritually  live  and  move  and 
have  their  being  in  him.  The  idea  of  a  general  union  with  God  is  a  favorite 
one  with  Tholuck— Tr.] 

1  The  first  judgment,  that  is  known  to  us,  concerning  the  character  of 
the  style  of  Paul,  was  contained  in  the  lost  work  of  Irenaeus,  "  On  the 
Pauline  Inversions,"  where  with  entire  correctness  he  pronounced  the 
ground  of  them  to  be,  "  the  rapidity  of  his  speech  and  the  vehemence  of  his 
spirit;"  Adv.  Haer.  3.  7.  The  ancient  heathens,  in  their  judgment  upon  a 
work  of  art,  scarcely  ever  took  notice  of  the  subjective  sentiment  and  cast 
of  mind,  under  the  influence  of  which  the  work  was  produced.  They  ab- 
stained from  this,  in  order  that  the  work  may  have  more  the  appearance  of 
a  gift  from  the  divine  power.  But  christian  authors  have  very  early  pro- 
nounced their  opinion  on  the  internal  peculiarities  of  the  sacred  penmen. 
In  this  fact  then  may  be  found  an  objection,  unknown  to  many  of  them, 
against  the  mode  of  representing  inspiration  as  something  purely  passive. 
(See  Lardner's  Works,  II.  176,495,  573,  4.  IV.  479,  480.  VII.  429-437.) 

7 


50 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


that  the  gospel  may  run  and  have  free  course  ! — and  yet  how  dif- 
ferent is  his  ardor  of  spirit  from  that  of  an  enthusiast !  It  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  apostle,  that  amid  the  glowing  of  his  inflamed  soul,  he 
is  never  deficient  in  the  regulating  power  of  discreet  reflection. 
What  regard  he  pays  in  his  discourses  and  letters,  to  the  variety  of 
relations  and  circumstances  !  What  a  contrast  between  his  style  of 
remark  at  Jerusalem,  and  at  Athens  ;  to  the  Galatians,  and  before 
king  Agrippa,  and  Felix  the  Governor !  Even  gracefulness  and  ur- 
banity of  manner  are  not  wanting  in  these  discourses  ;  as,  for  exam- 
ple, when  he  closes  an  address  with  the  words,  "  I  wish  in  short  that 
not  only  thou,  but  all  who  hear  me  this  day,  were  such  as  I  am, 
these  bonds  excepted."1  What  heedfulness  and  delicacy  in  the 
treatment  of  different  mental  conditions  are  exhibited  in  the  first  and 
second  epistle  to  the  Corinthians !  The  consideration  of  all  this  is 
certainly  sufficient  to  refute  those  false  imputations,  that  account  for 
the  conversion  of  Paul,  the  very  occurrence  on  which  the  whole 
active  efficiency  of  his  life  was  founded,  by  representing  it  as  a 
dream  in  his  mid-day  sleep,  or  as  a  fanatical  vision.  Truly  the  so- 
ber and  humble  demeanor  of  the  apostle  does  not  accord  with  the 
characteristics  of  a  visionary  ! 

As  the  third  fundamental  feature  in  the  picture  of  PauPs  charac- 
ter after  he  was  converted,  we  must  mention,  love.  The  natural 
disposition  of  the  bilious  man  prompts  him  to  govern ;  to  govern^ 
even  if  he  must  trample  on  one  half  of  the  race,  so  that  the  other 
may  obey  him.  Nothing  is  more  opposed  to  the  bent  of  his  mind, 
than  for  him  tenderly  to  spare  what  belongs  to  others.  But  where, 
in  all  history,  can  be  found  the  example  of  a  great  and  powerful 
spirit,  which  has  been  more  skilled  than  Paul  in  becoming  all  things 
to  all  men  ?  With  what  winning  tenderness  does  he  treat  the  Co- 
rinthians, to  whom  he  had  so  much  reason,  as  he  himself  expresses 
it,  for  coming  with  a  rod  !  In  view  of  such  expressions,  as  2  Cor. 
2:  5,  7,  9,  10,  we  might  almost  say  with  Erasmus,  that  the  apostle's 
tender  love  amounted  to  a  "  pious  flattery"  and  "  sacred  adulation,"2 
if  we  did  not  know  from  other  sources,  how  far  a  mind,  that  was 
truly  softened  with  the  love  of  Christ,  would  give  up  and  subordinate 
its  own  interests.  So  likewise  might  we  go  through  the  epistle  to 
Philemon,  and  point  out,  in  almost  every  word  and  sentence,  the 
tender  refinement  of  that  affection,  which  the  holy  man  himself  de- 


1  Acts  26:  29. 


2  Pia  vafrities,  sancta  adulatio. 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


51 


scribes  with  the  words,  "  it  is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  itself 
unseemly,  seeketh  not  her  own."  If  he  only  is  possessed  of  true 
greatness,  who  can  also  condescend  to  what  is  small,  then  there  is 
no  better  spectacle  of  greatness  than  is  to  be  seen  in  a  Luther,  as 
after  all  his  thunderings  against  the  emperor  and  the  pope,  he  exhi- 
bits himself  like  a  child  in  his  letter  to  his  little  John.1  And  we 
firmly  believe  that  Paul  himself  would  be  capable  of  the  same  exhi- 
bition of  character.  At  least  the  impression  is  a  similar  one,  which 
is  made  by  the  reading  of  his  epistle  to  Philemon,  after  we  have 
read  his  epistle  to  the  Romans,  or  his  speech  at  Athens. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

STYLE  OF  THE  APOSTLE. 

Paul's  style  of  writing  different  from  that  of  the  other  apostles  ;  but  not  so 
different  as  might  have  been  expected. — Difficulties  in  reference  to  the 
style  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews. — Style  of  Paul's  speeches. — His  ability 
to  write  in  classic  Greek. — Copiousness  of  his  style. — His  frequent  use 
of  the  paronomasia. — Character  of  this  figure. — Authority  for  it. — Objec- 
tions against  it. 

We  come  next  to  speak  of  the  style  of  the  apostle.  It  is  gene- 
rally acknowledged  how  much  more  of  a  master  he  was  of  the 
Greek  idiom,  than  his  fellow  apostles  were.  One  thing  however  in 
relation  to  this  subject  is  surprising,  that  between  him  who  spent  the 
earliest  period  of  his  life  in  a  Greek  city,  who  doubtless  spoke  Greek 
from  childhood  up,  and  his  companions  in  office,  who  either  never 
traveled  beyond  the  boundaries  of  Palestine  at  all,  or  not  until  they 
went  as  apostles, — it  is  surprising,  I  say,  that  between  him  and 
them,  the  distinction  does  not  appear  much  greater  than  it  does. 
Should  we  not  expect  from  Paul,  that  he  would  adopt  such  a  style, 
in  some  respects,  as  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  has 
done  ?2    A  perfect  accuracy  in  the  use  of  the  Greek  can  be  ex- 

1  See  note  M,  at  the  close. 

2  [Tholuck  as  is  well  known,  supposes  that  Paul  was  not  the  author  of 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.— Tr.| 


52 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


pected,  indeed,  from  no  Israelite,  however  long  he  may  have  dwelt 
in  the  society  of  the  Grecians. 

We  may  perhaps  make  an  exception  here  in  favor  of  such  liber- 
ally educated  Alexandrines  as  Aristobulus,  and  the  translator  of  the 
Proverbs  in  the  Septuagint.  Even  Josephus  complains  that "  his 
early  habits  of  speech  forbade  exactness  in  the  expression  of  the 
Greek  j"1  and  in  the  preparation  of  his  Greek  writings,  he  availed 
himself  of  the  aid  of  foreigners  in  respect  to  the  style.  But  at  least, 
must  not  Paul  have  greatly  excelled  James,  who,  as  it  seems,  having 
grown  up  as  a  genuine  Pharisee,  never  went  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  Palestine. 

From  the  comparison  of  Paul  with  his  fellow-apostles,  two  things, 
as  it  occurs  to  us,  may  be  learned  with  tolerable  certainty.  One, 
relating  especially  to  James,  in  less  degree  also  to  John  and  Peter, 
is  this  ;  we  must  recede  from  the  prevailing  belief  that  the  Greek 
language  was  not  at  all,  or  in  very  few  instances  spoken  by  the  in- 
habitants of  Palestine.  If  we  refuse  to  abandon  this  view,  which 
may  elsewhere,  moreover,  be  shown  to  be  false,  then  in  opposition 
to  all  christian  antiquity,  we  must  come  at  last  to  the  conclusion, 
that  no  one  of  the  Jameses  known  to  us,  was  the  author  of  what  is 
called  the  epistle  of  James.  This  conclusion  has  recently  been 
avowed  even  by  so  cautious  a  critic  as  Schott,  and  has  been  support- 
ed entirely  by  considerations  drawn  from  style.2    The  other  infer- 

1  Antiquities,  B.  XX.  c.  XI. 

2  [The  question  whether  the  Aramaean  or  the  Greek  language  was  exclu- 
sively spoken  in  Palestine  in  the  time  of  Christ  has  been  long  and  earnestly 
discussed.  A  brief  history  of  the  discussion,  and  a  view  of  its  importance, 
are  given  by  Prof.  Robinson  in  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  I.  pp.  300 — 317.  See  like- 
wise the  essay  of  H.  F.  Pfannkuche,  on  the  general  prevalence  of  the  Ara- 
maean language  in  Palestine,  and  the  article  of  Hug  on  the  general  use  of 

he  Greek;  the  former  in  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  1.  pp.  317—363,  the  latter  in  Vol. 

.  pp.  530 — 551,  and  also  in  Fosdick's  Translation  of  Hug's  Introduction, 
pp.  326 — 340.  Father  Simon,  says  Prof.  Robinson,  "  shows  conclusively, 
that  the  Jews  in  Palestine  did  speak  the  Chaldee  or  Aramaean  language  ; 
but  at  the  same  time,  although  a  warm  advocate  for  the  Hebrew  original  of 
Matthew,  he  admits  that  Greek  was  spoken  in  Palestine,  and  takes  indeed 
the  position,  which  probably  most  at  the  present  day  will  be  ready  to  adopt 
after  reading  Hug's  essay,  viz.,  That  the  tiro  languages  iccre  both  current  at 
the  same  time  in  Palestine,  vuring  the  age  of  Christ  and  the  Apostles.1'  "Hug 
shows,  irrefragably  as  it  would  seem,  that  the  Greek  had  obtained  such  a 
footing  in  Palestine,  as  to  place  it  at  least  nearly  on  an  equality  with  the 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


53 


ence  derived  from  this  comparison,  and  relating  to  Paul,  is  this  ;  we 
must  suppose  that  the  imperfection  of  his  Greek  style  had  not  its  ori- 
gin in  an  impossibility  of  writing  better,  so  much  as  in  a  want  of 
care.  That  the  apostle  could  use  the  Greek  idiom  with  skill,  when- 
ever there  was  need  of  his  doing  so,  may  be  proved  conclusively 
from  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  if  that  be  supposed  to  be  the  work 
of  Paul,  or  from  the  last  part  of  the  book  of  Acts,  if  we  be  allowed 
to  appeal  to  the  speeches  there  inserted.  These  speeches  are  per- 
haps distinguished  above  every  other  portion  of  the  New  Testament 
for  elegance  of  Greek  style.  We  do  not,  however,  conceal  the  un- 
certainty of  this  argument.  Grant  even  that  no  other  reason  pre- 
vented us  from  considering  the  apostle  to  the  heathen,  as  the  au- 
thor of  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  what  could  well  be  alleged  as  a 
reason  why  the  apostle,  who  writes  to  the  tastefully  educated  Corin- 
thians in  the  style  that  was  easy  to  him,  should,  in  an  epistle  to  the 
Christians  in  Palestine,  make  use  of  an  elegant  idiom  ?  If  the  use 
of  the  Chaldee  idiom  was  so  agreeable  to  the  inhabitants  of  Pales- 
tine that  a  tumultuous  assembly,  when  they  heard  Paul  speak  in  this 
idiom,  became  still,1  why  should  not  the  apostle,  who  in  things  law- 
ful so  willingly  became  all  things  to  all  men,  have  preferred  the 
Chaldaic  dialect,  in  an  epistle  which  he  wrote  directly  to  a'commu- 
nity  in  Palestine  ?  Those  who  defend  the  Pauline  origin  of  the 
epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  have  not  as  yet  succeeded  in  removing  this 
difficulty.  This  one  thing  indeed  they  are  able  to  show,  that  an 
epistle  in  Greek  might  have  been  understood  by  a  community  in  Pa- 
lestine.2 But  this  fact  does  by  no  means  justify  an  author  in  select- 
ing the  Greek  language,  when  he  was  equally  skilled  in  the  peculiar 
language  of  the  province  to  which  he  wrote. 

The  argument  drawn  from  the  speeches  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apos- 
tles would  have  greater  weight  than  the  preceding,  if  we  were  only 
certain,  that  the  speeches  which  are  interwoven  with  that  work,  and 
particularly  the  speeches  of  Peter  and  Paul,  are  to  be  looked  upon 

Aramaean  in  respect  to  general  prevalence."  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  I.  pp.  313. 
317.— Tr.] 

1  Acts  22:  2. 

2  [The  objection  against  the  Pauline  origin  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
on  the  ground  of  its  closer  conformity  to  the  Greek  idiom  than  the  acknow- 
ledged epistles  of  Paul,  is  met,  by  Prof.  Stuart,  by  denying  the  fact.  See 
his  Comm.  on  Hebrews,  §32.  p.  235—246. — Tr.] 


54 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


1 


as  the  exact  report  of  the  apostle's  words.  Seyler  indeed  has 
recently,  in  his  essay  on  the  speeches  and  epistles  of  Peter,  in  the 
first  number  of  the  Studien  und  Kritiken  for  1832,  expressed  his 
conviction,  that  Peter's  speech  was  reported  by  the  author  of  the 
book  of  Acts,  with  a  nicety,  which  passed  over  not  even  a  particle, 
not  even  a  da.  As,  however,  Dr.  Seyler  has  reserved  the  proof  of 
this  position  to  a  future  time,  we  cannot  judge  of  his  reasons.  It 
seems  to  us  surprising  at  the  first  view,  and  worthy  of  our  attention, 
that  the  speeches  which  are  found  in  the  former  part  of  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles,  and  indeed  not  merely  those  of  Peter  but  those  of  Paul 
also,1  bear,  in  a  striking  degree,  so  much  more  of  the  Hebrew  color- 
ing, than  those  found  in  the  latter  part.  We  are  compelled  to  ex- 
plain this  by  the  fact,  that  the  former  speeches  were  delivered  over 
to  Luke  in  writing,  as  he  was  not  present  to  hear  them ;  while  the 
latter,  which  he  heard  himself,  were  re-written  by  him  with  freedom. 
The  agreement  of  the  diction  with  that  of  Luke  is  an  argument  for 
this  supposition.  If  this  view  is  correct,  then  the  appeal  to  the 
speeches  of  Paul  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  loses  its  authority. 

Although  therefore  we  abandon  these  direct  arguments,  still  we 
may,  as  we  think,  admit  that  the  apostle  to  the  Gentiles  could,  when 
it  was  necessary  for  him  to  do  so,  write  in  the  pure  Greek  style. 
We  regard  the  opinion,  which  Michael  is  has  expressed  in  his  Intro- 
duction,2 to  be  in  the  highest  degree  apposite.  "  Paul  is  distinguish- 
ed,1' he  says, "  from  all  the  other  New  Testament  writers.  Instances 
of  Hebraism  enough,  instances  of  carelessness  enough,  are  to  be  found 
in  him,  yet  not  the  short  verse-measure  of  the  Hebrew  style,  but  on 
the  whole  more  of  the  Greek  construction.  Still  he  is  careless,  like 
one  who  understands  the  language,  but  spends  no  labor  at  all  upon  his 
diction  ;  like  one  who  thinks  barely  of  his  subject,  and  is  transported 
by  an  overflow  of  thoughts,  and  at  the  same  time  by  emotion  and  oc- 
casionally by  genius.  That  the  best  Greek  expressions  are  equally 
familiar  to  him  with  the  Hebrew  is  evident.  They  are  interchanged 
as  the  former  or  the  latter  occur  first  to  his  mind.  The  Greek  lan- 
guage is  at  his  service,  even  in  expressing  the  liveliest  and  most  deli- 
cate satire  ;  but  he  does  not  avoid  the  under-current  of  Hebraism, 
and  has  no  wish  at  all  to  write  with  purity  or  with  beauty.'" 

If,  on  the  one  hand,  there  is  in  the  style  of  Paul  more  of  the 
Greek  coloring,  and  if  it  is  adopted  more  involuntarily,  than  is  the 

1  See  Chap.  i:j  5  Edition  4,  Part  1.  p.  117. 


I 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


55 


case  with  the  other  apostles,  inasmuch  as  dialectic  discussion  very 
naturally  made  his  style  periodic,1  so  on  the  other  hand,  the  want  of 
periodic  structure  is  not  the  effect  of  a  deficiency  in  acquaintance 
with  the  language,  so  much  as  the  effect  of  the  apostle's  character, 
and  this  has  already  been  described.  There  is  indeed  for  his  mode 
of  thinking,  as  of  writing  no  more  fitting  image  than  the  flood,  where 
one  wave  overtops  another.  The  frequently  recurring  ov  [i6vov  di 
and  [laXXov  da  is  the  swelling  of  the  wave.2  Let  one  only  consider 
how  Paul,  at  the  beginning  of  the  epistle  to  the  Romans,  never 
satisfies  himself,  but  adds  accessory  ideas  to  every  principal  word. 
This  is  visible  in  the  most  characteristic  way  in  the  first  chapter  of 
his  epistle  to  the  Ephesians.  Where  thought  presses  upon  thought, 
one  feeling  upon  another,  there  it  is  not  easily  conceivable  that 
regularly  constructed  parentheses,3  like  those  which  are  presented  in 
the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  and  which  are  the  result  of  calm  reflec- 
tion, should  be  employed.    In  such  cases  the  anacoluthon  is  intro- 


1  Liicke,  in  the  second  edition  of  his  Comment,  on  John,  Vol.  1.  p.  129, 
makes  very  correct  remarks  on  this  subject.  1  here  select  the  passage,  be- 
cause it  expresses  at  the  same  time  the  view  above  given  of  the  relation 
between  John  and  Paul. 

"  The  chief  distinction."  he  says,  i:  between  Paul  and  John  lies  in  the 
individuality  of  the  two  writers.  As  Paul  thinks  logically,  sj'llogistically, 
and  besides,  in  his  Epistles,  explains  the  subject-matter  of  the  Gospel  in  a 
didactic  form,  so  he  writes  in  the  periodic  style ;  but  with  the  periodic  and 
dialectic  mode  of  writing,  the  Greek  peculiarities  likewise  the  more  decidedly 
present  themselves.  John  is  almost  the  opposite  of  this.  As  in  his  mental 
character  he  is  inclined  to  the  synthetic,  rather  than  to  the  analytic  method  ; 
as  he  is  inclined  to  what  is  called  the  intuition  of  the  spirit,  rather  than  to 
the  logical  discussion ;  so  likewise  in  his  style  of  composition  he  is  more 
simple  (than  Paul).  He  is  so  in  his  Epistles,  and  likewise  in  his  Gospel. 
In  the  latter,  moreover,  the  historical  subject-matter  makes  a  difference 
between  him  and  his  fellow-apostle.  His  thoughts  are  arranged,  with 
greater  regularity  than  Paul's  ;  one  might  almost  say  that  they  follow  each 
other  in  the  order  of  parallelism.  The  Hebraistic  element  is  therefore 
visible,  both  in  his  mode  of  representation,  and  his  choice  of  language  ;  and 
it  is,  at  least  inwardly,  the  pervading  element  of  his  style." 

2  See  for  example,  Rom.  5:  3,  11.  8:  23,  and  34.  10: 14  and  15. 

3  [On  the  parenthetical  character  of  the  style  of  Paul's  epistles  generally, 
and  of  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews  in  particular,  see  Stuart's  Comm.  on 
Heb.  §  22,  especially  p.  14.— Tr.] 


56 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OP  PAUL. 


duced  ;J  the  oralio  variata2  also ;  the  siopesis3  and  the  laconic.4 
The  same  fervor  of  spirit  is  discernible  in  those  words,  frequently 
introduced,  which  are  compounded  with  tmo,  as  vnegXlav,  vniQvixaio, 
vTi*Q7isQi<jGtvo),  vnfQTifoovot^ti) ;  in  the  oft  repeated  use  of  ntxg5  and  in 
other  developments.  We  might  hold  it  scarcely  possible,  for  Paul 
to  make  use  of  such  calm  and  dispassionate  forms  of  speech,  as  the 
epistle  to  the  Hebrews  everywhere  exhibits.6  Even  through  the 
drapery  of  Luke,  the  discourses  of  this  apostle,  as  recorded  in  the 
Acts,  exhibit  the  vigorous  formation  of  his  style. 

That  with  the  apostle's  numerous  Hebraisms,  he  had  at  command 
no  small  part  of  the  treasures  of  the  Greek  language,  is  evident  from 
his  great  variety  of  particles  ;  his  significant  variation  of  prepositions, 
which  he  knows  how  to  employ  so  as  to  be  a  true  means  of  con- 
veying thought ;  his  copious  use  of  synonyms ;  his  great  variety  of 
expressions  for  one  and  the  same  object ;  his  employment  of  rare 
words,  and  partly  of  words  coined  by  himself ;  his  rich  participial 
constructions,  but  especially  his  copious  fulness  of  paronomasia  in 
all  its  forms  ;  the  antanaklasis,  parachesis,  annominatio.7  Without 
directing  the  mind  expressly  to  this  subject,  one  cannot  imagine  how 
frequently  the  apostle  uses  the  paronomasia.  For  managing  the 
figure  in  a  free  and  spirited  way,  however,  an  unembarrassed  use 
of  the  language  is  indispensable.  Examine  the  euphonious  parono- 
masia in  1  Tim.  3:  16,  iqxxvegw&r) — edixaico&r) ;  also  in  Eph.  3:  6, 
tTvyyXtjQovo^a  xcti  avaaia^a  y.al  avfi^hoxa ;  likewise  in  2  Cor.  8:  22, 
iv  noXXolg  nollamq  anovdaiov  >•  and  in  9:  8,  iva  ev  nctvxi  navxoie 
naaav  avTci()xsi<xv  wis.  See  also  in  Rom.  1:  29,  and  31,  the  words 
■noQvsia,  novriQlu ;  (p&ovov,  cpovov,  aavvhovg,  aavv&iiovg,  aaiogyovg, 
uanovdovg,  etc.  Especially  see  those  numerous  examples,  in  which 
the  resemblance  in  the  sound  in  connection  at  the  same  time  with 
resemblance  or  contrast  in  the  sense,  becomes  in  the  highest  degree 
significant.    In  the  epistle  to  the  Romans,  for  example,  we  have  the 


1  See  for  example  Rom.  2:  17,  21.  5:  12, 15,  9:  23. 

2  See  instance  in  Rom.  12: 1  and  2. 

3  See  example  in  Rom.  7:  25. 

4  See  Rom.  11:  18.  2  Cor.  G:  13. 

5  See  Col.  1:  9—11,28. 
«See  Meb.  6:  1—3.  11:  32. 

7  The  use  of  the  same  word  in  different  senses ;  of  different  words  resem- 
bling each  other  in  sound  ;  of  pun. 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


57 


words  ex  n  forms  nforiv  in  1:  17;  and  in  1:  20,  the  words  t« 
aooaiu  jov  dsov  xa&oQixrat, ;  and  in  1:28,  xa&wg  oix  idoxl[xa(joiv — 
nagidwy.sv  avrovg  rig  udoxtfiov  vovv.  Other  instances  of  the  same 
figure  are  found  in  Rom.  2:  1.  4:  15.  15:  16,  and  19  ;  and  also  in 
Rom.  3:  27,  7:  23,  and  8:  2,  where  the  term  vo^xog  is  used  with 
varied  applications.  To  these  numerous  other  examples  might  be 
added  from  the  remaining  epistles.  Such  an  accumulation  of  this 
figure  needs  perhaps  an  apology.  There  may  be  some  who  will 
agree  in  opinion  with  Basilius  Faber,  when  he  says,  in  his  The- 
saurus, under  the  word  paronomasia,  that  "  in  jocular  and  light 
compositions  nothing  can  be  more  grateful  than  this  figure  ;  but 
in  serious  discourse  nothing  is  more  improper,  especially  if  it  be 
frequently  repeated."  In  order  to  perceive  the  incorrectness  of  this 
remark,  however,  one  need  only  be  reminded  of  some  instances  of 
paronomasia,  that  have  been  famed  throughout  the  world.  Such 
are  that  in  Ovid,  "  orbis  in  urbe  fuit ;"  and  that  in  Schiller,  "  die 
Welt-geschichte  ist  das  Weltgericht."  "  Even  in  philosophy,"  says 
Herder,  "  happy  expressions  of  this  kind  are  of  great  force.  They 
fasten  in  the  soul,  even  by  a  word, the  distinction  or  the  resemblance 
that  is  remarked.  Here  also  Luther  and  Hamann  present  numerous 
instances  parallel  with  those  of  the  apostle.  We  need  nothing  more 
however  than  to  refer  to  that  paronomasia  which  has  affected  the 
history  of  the  whole  world ;  the  paronomasia  employed  by  the 
Redeemer  himself,  in  the  sixteenth  of  Matthew,  where  he  calls 
Peter,  the  nhqot,  on  which  his  church  was  built.1 

It  cannot  by  any  means  be  inferred  from  the  use  of  these  puns  by 
Paul,  that  reflection  had  triumphed  over  feeling  in  his  mind,  as  Les- 

1  [For  a  much  larger  number  of  instances  in  which  this  figure  is  used  by 
the  writers  of  the  New  Testament,  especially  by  Paul,  by  the  writers  of  the 
Old  Testament  also,  by  classical  authors,  and  even  by  the  Saviour  himself, 
see  Winer's  Grammar  of  the  New  Testament,  §  49,  and  Stuart's  Hebrew 
Grammar,  3d  Ed.  §  571,  and  the  works  referred  to  in  them.  Perhaps  the 
paronomasia  employed  by  the  Saviour  in  Matt.  8:  22  has  been,  in  a  moral 
point  of  view,  nearly  as  much  entitled  to  the  epithet,  welt-historische,  as 
that  in  Matt.  1G:  18  to  which  Tholucli  refers. — The  very  frequent  use  of 
the  paronomasia  and  the  like  figures  by  the  sacred  penmen,  is  a  proof  that 
their  writings  are  genuine  Oriental  productions  ;  that  the  Spirit,  who  in- 
dited for  men,  adapted  himself  not  only  to  men  in  general,  but  in  an  es- 
pecial manner  to  the  communities  who  were  originally  addressed  ;  and  that 
the  Bible  was  not  designed  to  teach  men  rhetoric,  more  than  to  teach  them 
astronomy  or  metaphysics. — Tr.]- 
8 


58 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  PAUL. 


sing  says  that  the  introduction  of  wit  always  indicates  the  want  of 
excited  feeling.  This  is  the  fact  only  when  the  wit  seems  to  have 
been  sought  after.  Such  forms  of  the  paronomasia  as  betray  a  pre- 
vious effort  for  them  ;  the  anagram  for  instance,  and  the  repetition 
in  one  sentence  of  the  last  word  in  the  preceding,1  are  never  found 
in  the  apostle's  composition.  It  is  well  known  that,  for  example, 
the  sarcasm  is  introduced  by  men  of  spirit  on  occasions  of  the  most 
highly  excited  feeling.  It  is  thus  used  by  Paul  in  Phil.  3:  2,  xaiazopri 
— TtsQiTOjir} ;  and  in  1  Tim.  6:  5,  naQadiajQi^ag — dictTQiffaL  And 
so,  on  the  other  hand,  the  tenderest  emotions  of  love  call  forth  from 
him  a  play  upon  words.  An  instance  of  it  is  the  play  upon  the 
name  of  Onesimus  in  the  eleventh  verse  of  Philemon,  tov  noii  not 
oLXQiivxov,  vvvi  ds  vol  xal  ifiol  svxQrjcriov.2  Another  illustration  of  the 
same  is  that  excellent  proverb  in  Rom.  13:  8,  "  Be  in  debt  to  no 
man,  except  in  love." 


SUPPLEMENT  TO  THE  PRECEDING  TREATISE, 

Respecting  the  early  life  of  Paul,  compiled  from  various  works,  but  principally  from 
Hemsen's  Der  Apostel  IJaulus.  pp.  1 — 10. 

Name  of  the  Apostle.  Paul  received  from  his  parents  the  name 
b^fcWi  Saul.  Neander  states  as  a  conjecture,  that  this  name  was  de- 
rived from  to  ask,  and  signified  that  Saul  was  a  long-desired, 
first-born  son,  a*  child  of  prayers.  Why  and  when  the  name  Saul 
was  changed  into  Paul  is  doubtful.  The  Jews,  when  among  the 
Heathen,  often  altered  their  Hebrew  names,  and  sometimes  entirely 
dropped  them.  Thus  Dosthai  was  changed  into  Dositheus,  Jesus  into 
Jason,  Tarphon  into  Trypho,  Silas  into  Sylvanus ;  and  Onias  was 

1  ' AvayqamiaTiGiiol  and  i-jiavaoTqo^ai, 

2  ^Ov/jaifiogj  being  derived  from  ovlrrjfii,  would  of  course  have  about  the 
same  meaning  with  svyQTjGTOv.  Another  instance  of  paronomasia  on  the 
same  name,  is  in  the  twentieth  verse  of  the  same  epistle ;  Nal,  Melye,  iyoi 
oov  ovaifxrjv  tv  xvqlat.  Some  of  the  instances  of  paronomasia,  collected  by 
commentators  from  the  writings  of  Paul,  give  no  evidence  of  having  been 
designed  by  him.  Others  were  doubtless  designed.  "  In  the  discourses  of 
Jesus,"  says  Winer,  "  which  were  spoken  in  the  Syro  Chaldaic,  there  were 
probably  many  examples  of  paronomasia,  which  would  of  course  be  entirely 
lost  in  a  Greek  translation." — Tr.] 


SUPPLEMENT. 


59 


dropped  forMenelaus,  Hillel  for  Pollio,  Joakim  for  Alcimus,  Joannes 
for  Hyrcanus  :  see  Grot.  ad.  Act.  xiii.  9.  Whether  Paul  conformed 
to  this  custom,  or  whether,  as  other  converted  Jews  did,  he  changed 
his  name  at  the  same  time  with  his  faith,  cannot  be  determined. 
Ammon  on  Rom  1:  1,  supposes  the  latter  to  be  the  fact.  Jerome, 
Catal.  C.  5.  supposes  that  he  changed  his  name  as  soon  as  he  had 
been  made  the  instrument  of  converting  Sergius  Paulus,  the  Procon- 
sul of  Cyprus  :  Acts  13:  6 — 12.  This  is  mere  conjecture.  Chry- 
sost.,  On  the  Change  of  Men's  Names,  states  various  reasons  for 
the  change  of  Saul  into  Paul.  He  rejects  the  idea  that  the  etymol- 
ogy of  the  words  determined  the  change ;  that  the  word  Saul  was 
derived  from  (raXsvuv  and  designated  a  persecutor,  and  the  word 
Paul  from  nawaa&at,  and  designated  a  protector,  defender  of  the 
church.  He  seems  to  think  that  the  Holy  Spirit  gave  a  new  name 
to  Paul,  so  that  He  might  signify  his  authority  over  the  converted 
man ;  just  as  a  master  gives  a  new  name  to  a  slave  whom  he  pur- 
chases. The  name  is  a  sign  of  ownership.  He  supposes  that  Paul 
did  not  change  his  name  immediately  after  his  conversion,  because 
by  so  early  a  change,  it  would  not  be  so  extensively  known  that  he 
was  the  same  Saul  who  once  persecuted  the  church.  Neander  says, 
that  Saul  was  the  Hebrew,  and  Paul  the  Hellenistic  name  ;  Light- 
foot,  that  he  was  called  Saul  as  a  Jew  and  Paul  as  a  Gentile,  partic- 
ularly as  the  apostle  to  the  Gentiles :  Light.  Works,  VIII.  pp.  462, 
463.  XII.  p.  456. 

Family  connections  of  the  Apostle.  His  parents  were  descendants 
of  Abraham,  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  Phil.  3:  5.  Rom.  11:1.  '  His 
father  was  a  Pharisee,  Acts  23: 6.  26:  5.  Phil.  3:  5.  He  had  a  sister 
whose  son  was  a  Christian,  and  a  discreet  person,  and  very  useful  to 
his  uncle  Paul  when  a  prisoner  at  Jerusalem,  Acts  23:  16 — 22.  This 
nephew's  conduct  cannot  be  thought  of  without  admiration  and  grati- 
tude. Some  others  of  his  relatives  are  mentioned  by  him  in  his  epistle 
to  the  Romans,  who  also  were  believers  in  Jesus,  and  several  of  them 
had  been  so  before  himself ;  which  may  be  reckoned  a  proof  of  the 
virtue  and  piety  of  this  family.  Their  names  are  Andronicus  and 
Junias,  whom  he  calls  1  his  kinsmen.'  By  the  words  av/ysvelg  pov, 
Rom.  16:  7,  he  must  mean  something  more  than  s  his  countrymen.' 
He  speaks  in  the  like  manner  of  Herodian,  v.  11,  and  also  of  Lu- 
cius, Jason  and  Sosipater,  v.  21.'  Lardner,  Works,  Vol.  V.  p.  473. 
Tholuck  on  Rom.  16:  7  says,  "  2vyyevrj$  may  designate  these  indi- 
viduals as  the  apostle's  relatives,  and  may  also  merely  denote  that 
they  were  of  Jewish  extraction.  The  latter  is  the  more  probable. 
See  vs.  11  and  21,  and  also  Rom.  9:  3."  See  also  Wahl's  Lexicon 
on  the  word  crvyywijg. 

Birth-place  of  the  Apostle.  Jerome  says,  Catal.  c  5,  "  Paul  was 
of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  and  of  the  city  of  Gischala,  in  Galilee.  When 
this  city  was  taken  by  the  Romans,  he  removed  with  his  parents  to 
Tarsus  in  Cilicia."  This  assertion  is  directly  opposed  to  the  account 
in  Acts  22:  3,  that  he  was  "  born  in  Tarsus  in  Cilicia."  See  also 


60 


SUPPLEMENT. 


Acts  9:  11.  21:  39.  Tarsus  was  a  great  and  populous  city,  situated 
in  a  fruitful  plain,  through  which  flowed  the  river  Cydnus.  It  was 
the  birth-place  of  many  distinguished  Greek  scholars.  The  inhabi- 
tants applied  with  great  assiduity  to  science,  and  were  considered,  in 
the  time  of  Christ,  as  the  most  cultivated  of  the  Greeks,  as  their  city 
was  the  most  richly  provided  with  literary  institutions.  Winer's  Real. 
It  was  declared  a  free  city  by  Augustus,  and  endowed  with  especial 
privileges.  Dio  Chrys.  Tarsica  post.  11.  36.  Appian  de  Bel.  Civ.  L. 
V.  p.  275,  etc.  Plin.  Nat.  Hist.  V.  27.  22.  Amm.  Marcell.  IV.  8. 

Time  of  the  ApostWs  Birth  and  Conversion.  According  to  an 
ancient  but  unauthorized  account,  Paul  was  born  in  the  second  year 
after  Christ.  This  account  is  found  in  the  Oratio  de  Petro  et  Paulo, 
Opp.  Chrysost.  Vol.  VIII.  The  account  however  has  nothing  im- 
probable in  itself,  since  Paul  is  described  as  a  young  man  at  the  time 
of  his  first  persecution  against  the  Christians,  Acts  7:  57.  1  In  the 
epistle  to  Philemon,'  says  Lardner, '  written  about  the  year  62,  the 
apostle  calls  himself,  v.  9,  "  Paul  the  aged."  This  I  think  must  lead 
us  to  suppose,  that  he  was  then  sixty  years  old,  or  not  much  less. — 
He  seems  to  have  arrived  at  years  of  discretion  when  he  was  con- 
verted, for  he  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the  principal  agents  in 
the  persecution  of  believers  after  the  death  of  Stephen  ;  to  have  been 
entrusted  by  the  Jewish  rulers  with  authority  to  carry  it  on,  Acts  26: 
10,  and  to  have  had  officers  under  him.  All  this  shows  the  regard 
that  was  paid  to  him.1  Works,  Vol.  V.  pp.  486,  7.  The  supposi- 
tion of  Hemsen,  Neander  and  Hug  seems  the  most  probable,  that 
Paul's  conversion  occurred  in  A.  D.  36.  Usher  and  Pearson  how- 
ever suppose  it  to  have  occurred  in  35  ;  Basnage,  Michaelis,  Hein- 
richs,  Kohler  and  Schott  in  37  ;  Eichhorn  in  37  or  38  ;  De  Wette 
in  35  or  38  ;  and  others  still  in  31,  33,  34,  39,  40,  41,  or  42. 

Free  citizenship  of  the  Apostle.  That  Paul  was  a  freeborn  Ro- 
man citizen  is  certain.  It  is  a  conjecture  of  some  that  his  ancestors 
obtained  their  free  citizenship  by  their  services  to  the  empire  during 
the  civil  wars  with  the  Jews.  But  of  this  there  is  no  evidence  ;  see 
Grotius  upon  Acts  22:  28.  Deyling  endeavors  to  show  that  Paul's 
parents  probably  purchased  the  privilege  of  Roman  freedom.  But 
nothing  can  be  certainly  known  about  the  mode  in  which  they  ob- 
tained it.    The  fact  only  is  plain.  See  Acts  22:  28. 

Trade  of  the  Apostle.  "  What  is  commanded  of  a  father  towards 
his  son  ?  (asks  a  Talmudic  writer.)  To  circumcise  him,  to  redeem 
him,  to  teach  him  the  law,  to  teach  him  a  trade,  etc.  R.  Judah  saith 
he  that  teacheth  not  his  son  a  trade,  does  as  if  he  taught  him  to  be  a 
thief.  Rabban  Gamaliel  saith,  He  that  hath  a  trade  in  his  hand,  to 
what  is  he  like  ?  He  is  like  to  a  vineyard  that  is  fenced.  So  some 
of  the  great  wise  men  of  Israel  had  been  cuiters  of  wood.  Rabban 
Jochanan  Ben  Zaccai,that  was  vice-president  of  the  Sanhedrim,  was 
a  merchant  four  years,  and  then  he  fell  to  the  study  of  the  law." 
u  Rabbi  Judah,  the  great  cabbalist,  bore  the  name  and  trade  of  Hhajat, 
a  shoemaker  or  tailor."  Lightfoot,  Vol.  III.  pp.  227,228.  VIII.  p.  131. 


SUPPLEMENT. 


(51 


According  to  (this)  old  Jewish  custom  which  was  well  nigh  'as 
binding  as  law,  Paul  learned  a  trade,  that  of  a  maker  of  tent-cloth. 
Michaelis  (Intro.  Vol.  II.  p.  1338,  Edit.  4,)  represents  Paul  as  a  ma- 
chine-maker. A  passage  in  Julius  Pollux  led  him  into  this  singular 
mistake :  see  Hug's  Introduction,  Part  II.  §  86.  The  Fathers  sup- 
posed Paul  to  be  a  worker  on  leather,  or  a  tent-maker.  Chrysostom 
says,  "  By  his  trade  he  was  employed  upon  skins."  The  fact  that 
war-tents  were  made  of  leather,  induced  the  old  writers  to  suppose 
that  Paul  worked  on  this  material.  The  probability  is,  that  as  a 
kind  of  shagged,  rough-haired  goat  was  very  common  in  Cilicia,and 
as  the  hair  of  this  animal  was  manufactured  into  a  thick  coarse  cloth, 
and  as  this  manufacture  may  have  been  very  common  in  Paul's  na- 
tive province,  he  therefore  selected  it  as  his  employment.  The  cloth 
thus  manufactured  was  called  cilicia.  It  was  used  for  the  covering 
of  tents  in  war,  and  upon  ships  ;  also  for  shepherds'  tents,  especially 
in  Syria  and  on  the  Euphrates.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  however 
that  Paul  never  made  tent-cloth  except  from  materials  procured  in 
his  native  region.  On  this  supposition,  it  is  difficult  to  understand 
how  he  could  have  worked  at  his  trade,  in  all  places  which  he  visited. 
He  doubtless  used  other  materials  besides  the  mlUia  for  the  manu- 
facture of  tent-cloth.  That  he  sometimes  worked  at  his  trade  after 
he  became  an  apostle,  is  evident  from  Acts  18:  3,  and  probable  from 
Acts  20:  34. 

Learning  of  the  Apostle.  Strabo,  Geogr.  1.  XIV.,  says  that  "  the 
inhabitants  of  Tarsus  were  so  zealous  in  the  pursuits  of  philosophy 
and  the  whole  circle  of  Greek  study,  that  they  surpassed  even  the 
Athenians  and  Alexandrians,  and  indeed  the  citizens  of  every  other 
place  which  can  be  mentioned,  in  which  schools  and  lectures  of 
philosophers  and  rhetoricians  were  established."  Hence  some  have 
supposed  that  the  apostle  must  have  been  a  very  learned  man.  But 
such  an  inference  from  such  premises  is  unwarranted.  First,  the 
Hellenistic  Jews  kept  themselves  at  a  great  distance  from  the  Greeks. 
It  is  true  that  Philo  and  Josephus  made  considerable  advancement  in 
Grecian  literature,  but  they  were  exceptions  from  the  general  rule. 
In  the  case  of  Paul,  too,  there  is  a  peculiar  improbability  of  any 
very  intimate  connection  with  the  Greeks,  as  he  belonged  to  a  family 
of  very  rigid  pharisaical  principles.  But  secondly,  Paul  was  sent 
away  from  the  influences  of  Tarsus  when  he  was  between  10  and 
13  years  of  age,  according  to  Tholuck,  and  remained  at  Jerusalem 
until  he  was  30  or  33.  He  made  great  proficiency,  however,  in 
Jewish  literature,  and  was  distinguished  for  talents  and  eloquence. 
He  was  supposed  at  Lystra  to  be  the  god  of  oratory.  44 1  regard 
Paul,"  says  Hug,  44  as  a  master  of  eloquence,  and  should  even 
like  to  compare  him  in  this  respect  with  celebrated  men  of  ancient 
times ;  e.  g.  with  Isocrates  whose  letters  to  Demonicus  and  some  of 
those  to  Nicocles  bear  considerable  resemblance  to  Paul's  in  design 
and  purport."  44  The  simile  1  Cor.  12:  14  seq.  resembles  that  of 
Menenius  Agrippa,  and  is  even  more  elegant  and  expressive." 


62 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


Dibnysius  Longinus  thus  speaks  of  the  eloquence  of  Paul :  "  The 
following  men  are  the  boast  of  all  eloquence,  and  of  Grecian  genius, 
viz.  Demosthenes,  Lysias,  iEschines,  Hyperides,  Isaeus,  Anarchus 
or  Demosthenes  Crithinus,  Isocrates,  and  Antiphon  ;  to  whom  may 
be  added  Paul  of  Tarsus,  who  was  the  first,  within  my  knowledge, 
that  did  not  make  use  of  demonstration,"  who  made  use  of  persuasion 
and  pathos  rather  than  argument.  See  Hug's  Introduction,  Fosdick's 
Trans,  pp.  508—10. 

Natural  disposition  of  the  Apostle.  That  he  was  by  nature  im- 
petuous and  intolerant  is  evident  from  Acts  7:  58.  8:  1 — 4.  9:  L 
11:  1,  2.  22:  4  seq.  This  makes  his  subsequent  tenderness  so  much 
the  more  remarkable  ;  see  Acts  20:  17  seq.  It  is  to  be  remember- 
ed, however,  that  he  obtained  his  early  information  about  the  chris- 
tian religion  from  the  Jewish  teachers  ;  and  even  if  he  resided  at 
Jerusalem  during  the  Saviour's  public  ministry,  he  was  probably 
kept  secluded,  like  the  other  Jewish  pupils,  from  intercourse  with 
those  friendly  to  Jesus,1  and  must  have  formed  erroneous  concep- 
tions of  Christianity.  This,  in  connection  with  his  zeal  for  Judaism, 
is  some  apology  for  Jiis  persecuting  spirit.  His  whole  history  shows 
that  he  was  naturally  independent,  decided  in  his  convictions  and 
feelings,  prone  to  extremes,  fitted  to  be  a  leader  in  whatever  cause 
he  espoused,  and  capable,  when  sanctified,  of  rendering  eminent 
services  to  the  cause  of  humanity. — Tr. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 
NOTE  A;  p.  31. 

This  treatise  is  taken  from  the  Theologische  Studien  nnd  Kritiken,  VoJ. 
VIII.  pp.  364 — 393.  It  is  understood  to  contain  the  substance  of  part  of  Tho- 
luck's  Introduction  to  the  new  edition,  which  he  is  now  preparing,  of  his 
Comm.  on  the  Romans.  It  will  be  found  to  be  a  condensed  summary  of  the 
literature  on  Paul's  early  life  and  character,  to  be  eminently  svggcstive  (if 
this  word  may  be  allowed)  in  its  style,  find  to  afford  rich  material  for  infer- 
ences and  reflections.  Its  phraseology  is  characteristic  of  its  author.  The 
remarks  at  the  close  on  paronomasia  will  serve  to  account  for  Tholuck's  fre- 
quent use  of  it  in  his  own  style.  In  his  Preface  to  the  new  edition  of  his 
Sermons,  page  27,  he  says  :  "  The  style  of  writing  which  we  demand  is  the 
figurative,  the  sententious,  the  enigmatical.  This  style,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  runs  through  all  the  writings  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments."  In 
conformity  with  such  principles,  the  division  of  the  first  sermon  translated 

1  Paul  says,  1  Cor.  9:  1 .  2  Cor.  5:  10,  that  he  had  seen  Christ.  This  ex- 
pression, however,  does  not  warrant  the  belief  that  he  saw  Christ  before  his 
crucifixion,  but,  according  to  Neander  and  Hemsen,  may  refer  to  the  event 
mentioned  in  Acts  9:  3,  etc. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


68 


in  this  volume  is  thus  expressed  in  the  original :  "  Und  zwar  beditrfen  wir  es 
erstens  als  einen  Spiegel  der  Tugend,  die  uns  fchlt ;  Zweitens  als  einen  Rie- 
gel  der  Silnde,  die  uns  qutllt ;  und  dr Uteris  als  ein  Siegel  des  Gnadenweges, 
den  wir  erioahlt."  The  translator  has  not  endeavored  to  accommodate  his 
version  to  these  peculiarities  of  Tholuck,  further  than  strict  fidelity  seemed 
to  require.  In  some  few  instances  he  has  endeavored  to  mitigate  what  he 
could  not  properly  omit.  Thus  the  first  three  lines  on  page  39  are  expressed 
in  the  original  in  the  following  manner  :  4<  Hamann  who  in  this  identical 
way  strikes  upon  every  flint-stone  of  scripture  with  his  spirit  of  fire  (or  fiery 
mind),  so  that  sparks  fly  out."  A  few,  and  but  a  few  similar  changes  occur 
in  the  translation  of  the  sermons. 

NOTE  B,  p.  33. 

These  three  citations  are.  the  first  in  Acts  17:  28,  supposed  by  some  to  be 
from  the  Phaenomenaof  Aratus,  fifth  line,  by  others  from  the  Hymn  to  Jupiter 
by  Cleanthes,  fourth  line;  the  second  in  1  Cor.  15:  33,  supposed  by  some  to 
be  from  Euripides,  by  others,  as  Jerome  and  Eusebius,  to  be  from  the  Thais 
of  Menander ;  the  third  in  Titus  1:  12,  supposed  by  Chrysostom  and  others 
to  be  from  Epimenides,  by  Theodoret,  and  others  from  Callimachus.  The 
passage  in  Titus  is  ascribed  by  Paul  to  one  of  the  poets,  tiq,  but  that  in  Acts 
to  more  than  one,Ttr«s:  this  has  led  some  to  suppose  that  the  apostle  in- 
tended to  refer  to  both  poets,  and  perhaps  also  to  Pindar,  who  has  a  similar 
expression.  It  would  certainly  be  natural  for  him  to  quote  from  Aratus,  as 
this  poet  was  a  Cilician  ;  it  would  also  be  natural  for  him  to  quote  from 
Cleanthes,  because  this  poet  had  resided  at  Athens,  and  Paul  was  now  ad- 
dressing an  Athenian  audience.  As  both  the  passages  are  near  the  begin- 
ning of  the  two  poems,  they  would  both  probably  be  well  known  to  his  hear- 
ers.— It  has  been  well  remarked,  however,  by  Henke,  that  the  question 
whether  Paul  was  or  was  not  well  versed  in  Greek  literature,  is  not  to  be 
determined  by  his  number  of  quotations  from  the  Greek  authors  ;  but  by 
the  general  structure  of  his  style,  by  his  mode  of  argumentation,  and  by  the 
whole  arrangement  of  his  thoughts.  See  Henke's  Trans,  of  Paley's  Hor. 
Paul.,  Remarks,  pp.  449 — 457.  "  In  his  mode  of  presenting  subjects,"  says 
Neander,  Hist.  Plant,  and  Prog.,  "  the  Jewish  element  of  his  education  mani- 
festly shows  itself  predominant.  His  peculiar  dialectics  he  acquired  not  in 
the  Greek  but  in  the  Jewish  school."  See  also  Fosdick's  Trans,  of  Hug's 
lntrod.  pp.  511,  512. 

NOTE  C,  p.  34. 

The  feelings  or  at  least  the  professions  of  the  Jews  in  reference  to  the  ac- 
quisition of  foreign  languages  seem  to  have  been  different  at  different  peri- 
ods. Josephus  says,  Ant.  B.  XX.  Ch.  XI,  11  Those  of  my  own  nation  freely 
acknowledge,  that  1  far  exceed  them  in  the  learning  belonging  to  the  Jews. 
I  have  also  taken  great  pains  to  acquire  the  learning  of  the  Greeks  ;  and  I 
understand  the  elements  of  the  Greek  language,  although  I  have  so  long 


64  NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 

been  accustomed  to  speak  the  Jewish,  that  I  cannot  pronounce  Greek  with 
sufficient  exactness.  For  my  own  countrymen  do  not  encourage  those  that 
learn  the  languages  of  many  nations,  because  they  look  upon  this  sort  of  ac- 
complishment as  common  not  only  to  freemen  but  also  to  slaves,  such  as 
please  to  acquire  it.  But  they  pronounce  him  to  be  a  wise  man  who  is  fully 
acquainted  with  our  laws,  and  is  able  to  interpret  their  meaning,"  etc.  On 
the  other  hand,  some  of  the  Talmudists  abounded  in  professions  of  skill  in 
foreign  tongues.  Rabbi  Jochanan,  in  the  Gemara  Babylonia,  says  :  "  None 
are  chosen  into  the  Sanhedrim,  but  men  of  uncommon  stature,  of  wisdom, 
of  beautiful  countenance  ;  old  men  skilled  in  magic  and  legerdemain,  who 
are  also  acquainted  with  seventy  different  languages."  The  same  is  also 
frequently  repeated  in  the  Gemara.  Maimonides  says:  "None  were  ad- 
mitted, either  into  the  superior  or  inferior  Sanhedrim  (by  which  is  meant  the 
Sanhedrim  consisting  of  seventy-one  or  two  members,  and  that  of  twenty- 
three),  but  wise  men  distinguished  for  their  acquaintance  with  legal  disci- 
pline, men  of  various  science,  and  by  no  means  ignorant  of  the  arts,  of  medi- 
cine, arithmetic,  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  ;  men  of  skill  in  leger- 
demain, divination  also  and  magic,  etc.,  so  that  they  might  be  prepared  for 
passing  judgment  on  all  the  subjects  usually  brought  before  them."  The 
phrase,  seventy  languages,  was  probably  intended  to  designate  all  the  lan- 
guages which  could  have  been  of  use  to  the  Council  in  determining  causes 
which  were  submitted  to  their  decision.  Of  what  use  a  knowledge  of  fo- 
reign languages  would  be  in  determining  forensic  cases,  may  be  seen  by  re- 
flecting on  the  number  of  men,  speaking  different  tongues,  who  visited  Je- 
rusalem. See  Acts  2:  8  seq.  See  on  the  general  subject,  Selden  de  Sy- 
nedriis  Vet.  Ebr.  Lib.  II.  Cap.  9. 

NOTE  D,  p.  35. 

The  following  is  Winer's  Comment  on  Gal.  6: 11.  "  You  see,  quantas, 
i.  e.  quam  longas  literas,  (how  long  a  letter,  see  Acts  28:  21  ;  Xenoph.  Hell. 
1.  1.  15),  1  have  written  to  you;  how  copiously  1  have  written.  So  Gro- 
tius,  Callixtus,  Baumgarten,  Koppe,  Schott,  Stolz.  His  reason  for  calling 
this  letter  a  long  letter,  (whereas  it  is  considerably  shorter  than  the  epistles 
to  the  Romans  and  Corinthians),  is  to  be  explained  by  the  circumstance 
added,  that  he  wrote  it  with  his  own  hand.  Paul  had  not  much  skill  and 
practice  in  chirography.  On  this  account  he  dictated  most  of  his  epistles  ; 
(merely  adding  his  signature  with  a  salutation  or  blessing  ;  see  Rom.  16: 
22.  1  Cor.  1C:  21.  2  Thess.  3:  17,  18.  Col.  4:  18.  See  also  a  consideration 
of  the  supposed  effect  of  writing  by  amanuenses  on  the  apostle's  style,  in 
Henke's  Transl.  of  Paley's  Hor.  Paul.  pp.  419— 421.— Tr.)  Chrysostom 
has  well  remarked,  1  Paul  gives  us  to  understand,  in  this  passage,  nothing 
else  than  that  he  wrote  the  whole  epistle;  and  this  was  a  special  sign  cf  its 
genuineness.  In  other  epistles,  however,  he  dictated,  and  an  amanuensis 
wrote.'  The  sense  of  the  passage  is,  therefore,  f  You  will  wonder  at  this 
long  letter  written  by  my  own  hand  ;  since  I  am  not  easily  persuaded,  in 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


65 


other  cases,  to  write  a  single  word  myself.  You  will  therefore  perceive  how 
great  is  my  concern  for  your  welfare,  and  how  much  I  am  willing  to  labor 
for  your  rescue  from  present  danger.'  (Flatt,  on  this  passage,  says,  "  The 
Galatians  might  therefore  look  upon  it,  as  a  special  proof  of  his  attachment 
to  them,  that  he  wrote  with  his  own  hand.  He  tells  them,  how  highly  they 
should  prize  this  letter  from  him,  and  how  much  he  loved  them.  '  Perhaps,' 
says  Morus,  '  Paul  added  these  words  because  his  epistle  contained  some  se- 
vere remarks,  which  he  wished  them  to  know  had  not  come  under  the  im- 
proper notice  of  an  amanuensis."— Tr.)  Theodoret,  Jerome,  Theophylact, 
Heinsius,  and  others  interpret  differently.  They  suppose  that  Paul  refer- 
red to  the  length  and  the  crudeness  of  his  alphabetic  characters.  Jerome 
says,  1  Paulus  Hebraeus  erat,  et  Graecas  literas  nesciebat,  et  quia  necessitas 
expetebat,  ut  manu  sua  epistolam  scriberet  contra  consuetudinem,  curvos 
tramitcs  literarum  viz  magnis  apicibus  exprimebat.'  Such  a  reference  as  this 
however  seems  to  be  inconsistent,  for  its  want  of  dignity,  with  the  severe  mental 
habit  of  the  apostle." 

It  would  seem  from  the  above,  that  Tholuck's  reference  on  p.  34  to  Wi- 
ner, suggests  an  incorrect  idea  of  Winer's  interpretation  of  the  passage. 
Some  interpreters,  who  suppose  that  Paul  alluded  to  his  ungraceful  chirog- 
raphy,  connect  the  eleventh  verse  with  those  that  succeed  it,  and  give  the 
following  paraphrase  of  his  words :  "  Marvel  not  at  the  unformed  style  of 
my  hand-writing.  1  have  no  desire  to  gain  applause  for  any  human  skill. 
Those  who  would  lead  you  into  evil  may  seek  to  obtain  praise  for  their 
external  accomplishments,  but  I  will  glory  in  nothing,  save  the  calamities 
which  I  suffer  for  the  cause  of  Christ."  See  Koppe  on  Gal.  6:  11.  Grotius 
follows  Jerome,  in  supposing  that  the  apostle  meant  to  speak  only  of  the 
verses  following  the  eleventh,  as  those  which  he  wrote  with  his  own  hand ; 
and  thus  to  imply  that  the  greater  part  of  the  epistle  had  been  dictated  to  an 
amanuensis.  "  The  sense  would  therefore  be,  '  Now,  after  you  have  read 
the  principal  part  of  my  epistle,  which  is  written  in  a  character  sufficiently 
graceful  and  elegant,  you  see  that  an  appendix  has  been  added  with  mine 
own  hand,  in  a  character  much  more  unformed.'  But  the  word  i'yQaxpa 
seems  to  me  to  indicate  that  which  had  been  written,  and  not  that  which  the 
apostle  was  intending  to  write."  RosenmQller  on  Gal.  6:  11.  Henke  sup- 
poses that  Paul  must  have  referred  merely  to  this  appendix,  as  in  his  own 
hand-writing ;  otherwise  the  style  of  the  epistle  would  have  been  different 
from  that  of  the  epistles  which  he  dictated.  Observations  on  Paley's  Hor. 
Paul,  pp.420,  421. 

The  common  interpretation  of  the  passage,  that  Paul  referred  merely  to 
the  fact  of  his  writing  the  epistle  himself,  and  not  to  the  style  of  his  chiro- 
graphy,  rests  in  part  on  the  principle,  that  "  words  which  properly  express 
magnitude  may  be  also  employed  to  express  multitude ;"  and  therefore  titj- 
Mxoig  yQcififiaoiv  may  mean  "  with  how  many  letters,"  instead  of"  with  what 
large  letters."  (Flatt's  Comm.)  It  is  also  contended,  that  the  plural  of  ygdfifia 
is  often  used  to  signify  an  epistle,  see  Acts  28:21,  and  therefore  tttjIixois 
yQafifiaacv  may  signify  directly,  "  what  a  large  or  long  epistle."  (Winer.) 

9 


66 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


NOTE  E,  p.  36. 

Jewish  Schools.  The  priests  and  Levites  are  sometimes  called  teachers  of 
the  Jewish  people  ;  but  they  were  not,  under  the  Mosaic  dispensation,  teach- 
ers of  schools.  The  prophets,  more  nearly  than  the  priests,  resembled  cler- 
gymen at  the  present  day.  At  stated  seasons,  as  the  exigency  of  the  times 
required,  they  became  teachers,  instructors  extraordinary.  The  school  of 
Samuel  is  supposed  by  Eichhorn  to  have  been  merely  a  thing  of  accident  or 
inclination  ;  by  Rosenmuller,  an  institution  for  national  culture,  (he  com- 
pares Samuel  with  Orpheus) ;  by  Nachtigall,  a  political  institution  ;  by  De 
Wette,  a  school  probably  for  the  education  of  prophetic  poets  or  speakers. 
See  1  Sam.  10:  5—11.  19:  18—24.  2  Kings  4:  23. 

Synagogues  were  sometimes  called  schools  by  the  Jews.  Care  was 
taken,  however,  to  make  a  distinction  between  the  synagogues  and  the 
schools  properly  so  called,  the  d^tiVlfe  or  higher  schools.  In  these  the  Tal- 
mud was  read,  while  the  Law  merely  was  read  in  the  synagogues;  and  the 
Talmud  was  supposed  to  be  much  superior  to  the  Law.  During  the  reign  of 
Antiochus  Epiphanes,  there  were  no  buildings  for  the  synagogues  in  Pales- 
tine, though  there  were  in  foreign  countries.1  They  were  first  erected  in 
Palestine  under  the  Maccabean  princes.  They  were  built  in  imitation  of 
the  temple.  In  the  centre  of  the  synagogue-court  was  a  chapel,  supported 
by  four  columns,  in  which,  on  an  elevation  prepared  for  it,  was  placed  the 
Book  of  the  Law,  rolled  up.  This,  on  the  appointed  days,  was  publicly  read. 
The  uppermost  seats  in  the  synagogue,  i.  e.  those  which  were  nearest  the 
chapel  where  the  sacred  books  were  kept,  were  esteemed  peculiarly  honor- 
able, Matt.  23:  0.  James  2:  3. — There  was  a  school  in  every  town,  where 
children  were  taught  to  read  the  law.  If  any  town  neglected  to  establish 
such  a  school,  the  inhabitants  were  excommunicated  till  one  was  provided. 
The  students  were  termed  sons  or  children.  The  teachers,  at  least  some  of 
them,  had  private  lecture-rooms  ;  but  they  also  taught  and  disputed  in  syna- 
gogues, in  temples,  and  wherever  they  could  find  an  audience.  The  me- 
thod of  instruction  was  the  same  with  that  which  prevailed  among  the 
Greeks.  Any  disciple,  who  chose,  might  propose  questions,  upon  which  it 
was  the  duty  of  the  teachers  to  remark  and  give  their  opinions,  Luke  2:  40. 
The  teachers  were  not  invested  with  their  functions  by  any  formal  act  of  the 
church  or  of  the  civil  authority.  They  were  self-constituted.  They  receiv- 
ed no  other  salary  than  a  voluntary  present  from  the  disciples,  a  kind  of 
honorarium,  1  Tim.  5:  17.  They  acquired  a  subsistence  in  the  main  by  the 
exercise  of  some  art  or  handicraft.  According  to  the  Talmudists,  they  were 
bound  to  abstain  from  all  conversation  with  women,  and  to  refuse  to  sit  at 
table  with  the  lower  class  of  people,  Matt.  9:  11.  John  4:  27.  The  subjects 
on  which  they  taught  were  numerous,  commonly  intricate,  and  frequently 
very  trifling.  There  are  numerous  examples  of  these  subjects  in  the  Tal- 
mud. 

The  1  Midrashoth'  were  a  kind  of  divinity  schools,  in  which  the  law  was 
1  Joseph.  Jewish  War,  III.  33. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


67 


expounded.  Such  were  the  schools  of  Hillel  and  Gamaliel;  also,  those 
which  were  subsequently  established  at  Jabneh,  Tsipporis,  Tiberias,  Magda- 
la,  Caesarea,  etc.  Rabbi  Jochanan,  who  compiled  the  Jerusalem  Talmud, 
was  president  of  one  of  these  schools  eighty  years. 

The  whole  Sanhedrim,  in  its  sessions,  was  the  great  school  of  the  nation, 
as  well  as  the  highest  judicatory.  It  set  forth  the  sense  of  the  law,  es- 
pecially in  practical  matters,  and  expounded  Moses  with  such  authority,  that 
its  word  was  not  to  be  resisted  or  even  questioned.  A  school  was  main- 
tained wherever  the  Sanhedrim  had  held  its  session. 

A  sort  of  academic  degree  was  conferred  on  the  pupils  in  the  Jewish  sem- 
inaries, which,  after  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  were  established  at  Baby- 
lon and  Tiberias.  The  candidate  was  examined  both  in  respect  to  his  moral 
and  literary  character.  Having  passed  his  examination  satisfactorily,  he  as- 
cended an  elevated  seat,  Matt.  23:  2 ;  a  writing  tablet  was  then  presented  to 
him,  to  signify  that  he  should  write  down  his  acquisitions,  since  they  might 
escape  from  his  memory,  and  unless  they  were  written  down,  would  be  lost. 
A  key  was  presented  to  signify,  that  he  might  now  open  the  treasures  of 
knowledge,  Luke  11:  52.  Hands  were  laid  upon  him;  a  custom  derived 
from  Num.  27:  28.  A  certain  authority  was  conferred  on  him,  probably  to 
be  exercised  over  his  own  disciples.  Finally,  he  was  saluted  with  the  title 
of  Rabbi,  or  Master.1 

NOTE  F,  p.  39. 

John  George  Hamann  was  born  at  Konigsberg,  A.  D.  1730.  He  travelled 
considerably  in  his  native  country ;  was  private  tutor  in  several  places  ; 
finally  received  an  office  in  the  customs  at  Konigsberg,  and  in  the  following 
year,  1788,  died  at  Miinster.  He  published  several  works,  indicating  a 
humorous  and  very  eccentric  turn  of  mind.  There  is  in  some  respects  a 
resemblance  between  them  and  the  writings  of  Jacob  Bohmen.  They  at- 
tracted but  little  attention  at  first ;  but  were  afterwards  noticed  with  ap- 
probation by  Herder,  Jacobi,  Goethe,  Jean  Paul  Richter,  and  other  writers 
of  the  like  character.  They  were  republished  at  Leipsic  in  1821 — 1825. 
Hamann  called  himself,  and  is  called  by  others,  the  northern  magian.  See 
an  extended  notice  of  him  in  the  Supplement  to  the  Germ.  Cons.  Lex. 

NOTE  G,  p.  39. 

The  following  note  is  appended  by  Tholuck  to  the  extract  which  he  gives 
from  Hamann. 

"  The  attention  of  recent  writers  has  been  called  to  the  resemblance  be- 
tween Paul  and  Hamann.  There  is  here,  indeed,  in  respect  to  richness  of 
sentiment,  well  nigh  more  than  a  resemblance.  Both  authors  are  fruit-trees, 
whose  branches,  down  to  the  smallest  twig,  glisten  with  fruits  and  blossoms. 
Many,  however,  will  doubtless  be  of  a  different  opinion,  for  since  writers 


1  See  Jahn's  Archaeology  1st  ed.,  117,  436,  468  ;  also  Lightfoot's  Works, 
III.  397.  V.  42.  X.  75,  174,  etc. 


68 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


like  these,  as  nature  herself  is  said  to  do,  answer  only  as  much  as  you  ask 
of  them,  you  must  therefore  learn  how  to  interrogate  them.  Their  works 
are  Gothic  edifices,  which  to  a  wide  extent  over  city  and  country  ravish  the 
eye,  and,  as  you  advance  the  nearer  to  them,  every  concealed  angle  holds 
your  attention  for  hours,  and  discovers  to  you  the  painter  who  produces 
master-pieces,  even  when  he  daubs  with  the  pencil.  Is  there  not,  for  ex- 
ample, in  every  word  of  the  passage  quoted  on  p.39,from  the  northern  magian, 
music  and  indeed  a  key-note  to  the  great  word?  But  that  Hamann  sought 
after  this,  will  be  asserted  only  by  such  an  one,  as  must  hunt  for  the  spirit 
before  it  will  run  into  his  hands.  Next  to  Hamann,  the  great  poet  of  the 
Divine  Comedy  presents  a  parallel  to  the  apostle.  This  parallel,  however, 
is  less  exact  than  the  former;  because  with  Dante  reflection  predominates 
more,  and  the  abundance  of  allusions  is  not  so  involuntary  as  with  the 
apostle  and  the  magian  of  the  north.  That  wonderful  mixture  of  dry 
Aristotelian  logic  with  the  deepest  mysticism,  which  is  found  in  the  Orien- 
tals, and  in  the  Western  mystics  of  the  middle  ages,  is  exhibited  by  such 
poets  as  Dante  and  Calderon  in  allegories,  hints,  learned  reflections,  which 
appear  cold  to  us.  Judging  by  my  own  feeling,  this  altogether  peculiar 
characteristic  of  cool  reflection  is  found  in  no  passage  of  Scripture,  not  in 
the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  Even  the  allegories  in  the  New  Testament 
proceed  in  my  judgment,  from  intuition,  (from  poetical  inspiration),  more 
than  from  the  calculating  understanding.  This,  I  think,  can  be  made  evi- 
dent. Inasmuch  then  as  Dante  possesses  such  intuition  in  rich  measure, 
he  presents  a  fertile  subject  of  comparison,  in  this  respect,  with  Hamann  and 
Paul,"  etc. 

NOTE  H,  p.  42. 

The  following  definition  of  Theosophy  is  from  Bretschneider's  Entwicke- 
lung,  pp.  23,  24. 

"  Theosophy,  (Qsoaoyo?,  rerum  divinarurn  gnarus),  is  the  vain  persuasion 
that  one  has  the  power  of  acquiring,  by  peculiar  means,  an  immediate 
knowledge  of  God  and  of  the  world  of  spirits,  and  of  living  in  immediate  con- 
nection with  them.  As  a  science,  it  is  the  instruction  on  the  especial  means 
for  securing  this  result.  Theosophy  is  distinguished  from  theology  in  the 
following  particulars.  First,  theology  makes  use  of  no  means  to  obtain  a 
definite  knowledge  of  the  spiritual  world,  but  such  as  are  communicated  to 
all  men ;  or  it  is  content  with  a  discursive  knowledge  of  the  spiritual  world  ; 
such  knowledge  as  the  reason  derives  from  its  own  principles  and  from  ex- 
perience. Theosophy,  on  the  other  hand,  seeks  or  pretends  to  have  an 
immediate  intuitive  knowledge  of  the  invisible,  and  believes  that  it  has 
mysterious  means  for  obtaining  it  which  are  given  to  but  few.  Secondly, 
theology  terminates  in  promoting  the  moral  connection  of  man  with  the 
invisible  world,  in  promoting  a  holy  life  ;  but  theosophy  follows  also  after 
earthly  and  selfish  ends,  as  the  philosopher's  stone,  etc." 

A  less  distinctive  meaning  of  theosophy  is,  an  acquaintance  with  the 
spiritual  world,  particularly  with  God  ;  and  such  a  pretension  to  familiarity 
with  invisible  objects  as  is  associated  with  fanaticism. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


69 


NOTE  I,  p.  43. 

Gamaliel.— The  Jews,  in  imitation  of  the  Greeks,  had  their  seven  wise 
men,  who  were  called  Rabboni,  Rabban,  "p^  .  Of  this  number  were  Hillel, 
Simeon  and  Gamaliel.  According  to  the  Jewish  writers,  Gamaliel  was  the 
son  of  Simeon  and  the  grand-son  of  Hillel.  Josephus  mentions  two  learn- 
ed men,  viz.,  Sameas  and  Follio,  who  flourished  thirty-four  years  B.  C.  If 
these  are  the  same  with  the  Shammai  and  Hillel  of  the  Talmud,  then,  as  is 
supposed  by  many,  Shammai  or  Sameas  is  the  same  with  the  Simeon, 
who  is  mentioned,  Luke  2:  25 — 35  ;  and  his  son  Gamaliel,  so  celebrated  in 
the  Talmud,  is  the  same  with  the  Gamaliel,  mentioned  in  Acts  5:  34,  22:  3. 

Hillel  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  among  the  Jewish  doctors  for 
birth,  family,  learning,  and  authority.  The  Rabbins  relate  that  he  was  de- 
scended from  Abital,  one  of  the  wives  of  David.  He  is  said  to  have  lived 
in  Babylon  forty  years;  he  then  studied  the  law  forty  years  in  Jerusalem, 
and  was  finally  president  of  the  Sanhedrim  forty  years  more.  He  died 
when  our  Saviour  was  about  twelve  years  old.  He  had  eighty  distinguished 
scholars.  One  of  them  was  Jonathan  Ben  Uzziel,  the  Chaldee  paraphrast. 
Many  nice  questions  were  discussed  in  his  school. 

The  name  of  his  son,  Simeon,  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Mishna,  or  in  the 
codes  of  the  Jewish  traditions.  Jt  is  conjectured  by  some  that  his  regard  for 
Christianity — (on  the  ground  that  he  is  the  same  mentioned  by  Luke) — made 
him  indifferent  toward  the  traditions.  He  is  reported  to  have  begun  his 
presidentship  of  the  Sanhedrim,  when  our  Saviour  was  about  thirteen  years 
old.  He  was  the  first  of  the  seven  who  were  dignified  with  the  title 
Rabban. 

His  con,  Rabban  Gamaliel,  the  apostle's  teacher,  is  stated  to  have  been  the 
president  of  the  Council  when  Christ  was  arraigned.  He  lived  twenty-two 
years  after  that  event,  and  died  eighteen  years  before  the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem. Onkelos,  the  Targumist  of  the  law,  is  said  to  have  burned  seventy 
pounds  of  frankincense  for  him  at  his  death.  Among  the  sayings  ascribed 
to  Gamaliel,  is  the  following  :  "  Procure  thyself  a  tutor,  and  get  thee  out  of 
doubting,  and  do  not  multiply  to  pay  thy  tithes  by  conjecture." 

From  the  narrative  in  Acts  V.,  Gamaliel  appears  to  have  been  a  prudent 
and  sagacious  counsellor.  He  neither  decides  against  the  doctrine  of  the 
apostles,  nor  gives  a  verdict  in  its  favor.  He  does  not  know  exactly  what 
judgment  to  pass  upon  the  new  phenomenon.  He  would,  therefore,  defer 
a  final  opinion  till  the  nature  of  Christianity  was  more  fully  exhibited. 
Had  he  been  convinced  of  its  pernicious  character,  he  would  have  advised 
its  suppression.  Had  he  decided  in  favor  of  its  useful  tendencies,  he  would 
have  embraced  it.  It  is  conjectured  by  some  that  he  gave  his  conciliatory 
advice,  because  he  saw  that  the  Sadducees  were  greatly  inflamed  against  the 
apostles.  The  report  that  he  actually  became  a  Christian  seems  to  have  no 
foundation.  There  is  no  evidence  but  that  he  lived  and  died  a  firm  Jew. 
Notwithstanding  his  liberality  in  the  affair  of  the  apostles,  the  Rabbins  re- 
port, that  he  ordained  and  published  a  prayer  which  was  termed,  £131*}  fiS^a, 


70 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


1  the  prayer  against  heretics,'  meaning  by  that  term,  Christians.  The  prayer 
was  in  fact  composed  by  Samuel  the  Small,  but  it  was  approved  by  Gamaliel. 
He  also  ordered  that  it  should  be  constantly  used  in  the  Jewish  Synagogues. 

This  distinguished  teacher  was  sometimes  termed,  1  Rabban  Gamaliel  the 
Old,'  either  because  he  was  the  first  of  that  name,  or  because  he  lived  to  a 
great  age.  His  son,  Rabban  Simeon,  was  slain  at  the  destruction  of  Jerusa- 
lem. Simeon's  son  and  successor  was  Rabban  Gamaliel  of  Jabneh.  With 
the  grand-son  of  this  last  Gamaliel,  who  also  bore  the  same  name,  the  title 
*  Rabban,'  and  the  Sanhedrim  itself  expired.1 

NOTE  K,  p.  43. 

In  explaining  the  phrase  in  Luke  2:  46,  which  represents  Christ  as  sitting 
among  the  doctors,  whereas  the  ordinary  posture  of  a  learner  was  standing, 
Lightfoot  quotes  the  following  passage  from  Megilah,  fol.  21.  1.  "The 
Rabbins  have  a  tradition,  that  from  the  days  of  Moses  to  Rabban  Gamaliel, 
they  were  instructed  in  the  law  standing.  But  when  Rabban  Gamaliel  died,  the 
world  languished,  so  that  they  learned  the  law  sitting.  Whence  also  that  tra- 
dition, that  since  the  death  of  Rabban  Gamaliel,  the  glory  of  the  law  was 
eclipsed."  See  Lightfoot's  Works,  vol.  VII.  pp.  44 — 48.  Similar  expressions 
of  praise  are  often  found  in  the  Talmudic  writings.  Thus  :  "  When  Rabbi 
Meir  died,  there  were  none  left  to  instruct  men  in  wise  parables."  "  When 
Simeon,  son  of  Gamaliel,  died,  there  came  locusts,  and  calamities  were  in- 
creased. When  Rabbi  Akiba  died,  the  glory  of  the  law  vanished  away.  Up- 
on the  death  of  Gamaliel  the  Aged,  the  honor  of  the  law  vanished,  and  there 
was  an  end  to  purity  and  sanctimony.  When  Rabbi  Ishmael,  son  of  Babi, 
•died,  the  splendor  of  the  priesthood  was  tarnished.  When  Rabbi  (Judah) 
died,  there  was  no  more  any  modesty  or  fear  of  transgression."  See  Lard- 
ner's  Works,  Vol.  VI.  p.  511. 

NOTE  L,  p.  45. 

The  following  is  a  condensed  view  of  the  temperaments,  so  far  as  is  ne- 
cessary for  elucidating  the  remarks  of  Tholuck.  It  is  taken  from  Heinroth's 
Anthropologic,  Absch.  5.  §  76,  77,  78,  80,  81,  82. — There  is  in  the  constitu- 
tion either  great  power  of  feeling  and  power  of  action,  both  in  equal  de- 
gree ;  or  a  prominent  power  of  feeling  with  but  little  power  of  action  ; 
or  a  predominant  power  of  action  with  but  little  power  of  feeling;  or  an 
equally  small  degree  of  both.  Accordingly,  the  temperament  which  con- 
tains great  susceptibility  with  great  power  of  action  is  called  choleric,  or 
warm-blooded;  that  which  has  a  predominant  sensibility  with  but  little 
power  of  execution,  we  call  sanguine  or  quick-blooded;  that  which  has  a 
predominance  of  the  active  power  with  but  little  sensibility,  we  call  the  me- 
lancholic or  slow-blooded  ;  and  that  which  has  an  equally  small  degree  of 
susceptibility  and  of  executive  power,  we  call  phlegmatic  or  cold-blooded. 

"See  Lightfoot's  Works,  III.  188,  189,  VIII.  81,  392,  IX.  345,346,  X.  34. 
Lardner's  Works,  Lond.  Ed.  1831,  L  309,  310,  VI.  511,514.  Upham's 
Jahn's  Archaeology,  p.  116,  Olshausen  Comm.  on  Acts  II.  630, 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


71 


The  choleric  temperament  is  also  called  the  nervous,  as  it  depends  upon  a 
high  degree  of  susceptibility  in  the  cerebral  and  nervous  system,  and  also  a 
high  degree  of  muscular  power,  derived  from  the  connection  formed  by  the 
spinal  marrow,  between  the  brain  and  the  muscles.  The  sanguine  temper- 
ament is  also  called  the  arterial ;  because  it  depends  upon  a  predominance 
of  activity  in  the  arteries  and  lungs.  The  melancholic  temperament  is  also 
called  the  venous,  because  it  depends  upon  a  predominant  influence  of  the 
veins  and  liver.  The  phlegmatic  temperament  is  also  called  the  lymphatic, 
because  it  depends  upon  the  peculiar  power  of  the  lymphatic  and  glandular 
system.  The  choleric  temperament,  (which  is  the  same  with  what  is  often 
called  the  bilious),  inclines  its  possessor  to  outward  activity,  the  melancholic 
to  inward;  the  sanguine  to  enjoyment,  the  phlegmatic  to  rest. 

The  man  of  choleric  temperament  has  excitability,  but  is  not  easily 
irritated  ;  not  moved  by  little  things,  but  by  great  influences  only  ;  is  strong 
and  constant  in  love,  but  not  sensual ;  hates  as  vehemently  as  he  loves, 
burns  with  indignation  against  his  foe,  and  is  willing  to  sacrifice  his  life  for 
his  friend  ;  is  fond  of  fame,  dominion,  outward  magnificence,  but  not  of  mere 
show ;  loves  liberty,  slavery  being  death  to  him  ;  is  in  the  highest  degree 
enthusiastic  ;  is  grave  but  not  demure ;  serene  but  not  mirthful ;  has  a  taste 
for  the  grand  in  nature  and  art ;  has  a  keen,  penetrating  mind,  as  well  as  eye ; 
his  ideas  are  rapid,  various,  sound,  distinct  and  well  arranged  ;  he  is  fond  of 
the  great  and  the  perfect  in  the  arts,  of  the  practical  in  the  sciences ;  his 
will  is  quick,  strong,  persevering  ;  himself,  his  own  I,  is  the  object  for 
which  he  acts.  He  is  free  from  the  vices  that  especially  imply  weakness,  as 
hypocrisy,  lying,  defamation  ;  he  is  magnanimous,  and  has  the  virtues  of  a 
hero;  but  is  also  capable  of  being  a  despot.  This  temperament  is  more 
commonly  found  in  men  than  women  ;  in  mature  life  than  in  youth.  It 
was  the  temperament  of  the  ancient  Romans,  and  is  now  that  of  the  modern 
Spaniards  and  Italians. 

The  man  of  melancholic  temperament  is  indifferent  to  the  outward  world, 
and  carries  his  world  deeply  hidden  within  himself;  is  inclined  to  sorrow, 
despondency,  suspicion,  ill-will,  misanthropy  ;  has  an  inclination  to 
solitude,  an  aversion  to  noisy  sports,  joyous  society  ;  no  special  predilection 
for  freedom  ;  loves  the  elevated,  the  awful,  the  gloomy  in  art  and  nature  ; 
is  fond  of  letting  his  thoughts  dwell  in  a  world  of  spirits  and  phantasms  ; 
loves  profound  thought,  radical  investigation,  speculative  rather  than 
practical  science  ;  is  apt  to  adhere  to  a  one-sided  view  of  things  :  is  indus- 
trious, persevering,  tenacious  ;  aims  after  inward  refinement  and  perfection ; 
is  still,  cautious  and  apprehensive  ;  fond  of  the  sombre,  grotesque,  mon- 
strous ;  insensible  to  his  own  outward  wants,  or  those  of  others,  but  is  con- 
sumed with  deep  inward  sorrow  ;  inclined  to  self-mortification,  self-torment, 
the  life  of  an  anchorite  ;  is  withal  equable  in  feeling  and  conduct.  This  is 
the  temperament  of  men  rather  than  women,  and  of  the  later  rather  than  the 
earlier  life.  Among  the  ancients,  the  inhabitants  of  the  Indies  were 
melancholic;  at  the  present  day  among  cultivated  Europeans,  the  English 
are  so.    While  the  choleric  writes  in  a  clear  and  precise  style,  the  melan- 


72 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


cholic  prefers  an  obscure  philosophical  style.  The  choleric  belongs  to  the 
Socratic  school,  the  melancholic  to  the  Stoical ;  the  former  is  predisposed 
in  favor  of  the  Protestant  religion,  the  latter  of  the  Catholic  ;  the  former 
manifests  his  degeneracy  by  fanaticism,  the  latter,  by  mysticism. 

NOTE  M,  p.  51. 

The  following  letter,  referred  to  also  in  Tholuck's  Pref.  to  new  ed.  of 
Sermons,  p.  45,  is  found  in  Luther's  Works,  Vol.  V.  pp.  18,  19.  John 
Luther  was  the  eldest  son  of  the  reformer,  was  born  in  152G,  and  was  there- 
fore four  years  old  when  this  letter  was  written. 

"  Grace  and  peace  in  Christ,  my  dearly  beloved  little  son.  1  am  glad  to 
know  that  you  are  learning  well  and  that  you  say  your  prayers  So  do,  my 
little  son,  and  persevere ;  and  when  I  come  home  I  will  bring  with  me  a 
present  from  the  annual  fair.  1  know  of  a  pleasant  and  beautiful  garden 
into  which  many  children  go,  where  they  hare  golden  little  coats,  and 
gather  pretty  apples  under  the  trees,  and  pears  and  cherries  and  plums, 
(Pflaumen)  and  yellow  plums,  (Spillen)  ;  where  they  sing,  leap,  and  are 
merry  ;  where  they  also  have  beautiful  little  horses  witli  golden  bridles  and 
silver  saddles.  When  1  asked  the  man  that  owned  the  garden,  '  Whose  are 
these  children  ?'  he  said,  1  they  are  the  children  that  love  to  pray  and  to 
learn,  and  are  pious.' 

Then  I  said,  '  Dear  Sir,  I  also  have  a  son ;  he  is  called  Johnny  Luther 
(Hansichen  Luther).  May  he  net  come  into  the  garden,  that  he  may  eat 
such  beautiful  apples  and  pears,  and  may  ride  such  a  little  horse,  and  play 
with  these  children?'  Then  the  man  said,  {  If  he  loves  to  pray  and  to  learn 
and  is  pious,  he  shall  also  come  into  the  garden  ;  Philip  too  and  little  James  ; 
and  if  they  all  come  together,  then  may  they  have  likewise  whistles,  kettle- 
drums, lutes  and  harps ;  they  may  dance  also  and  shoot  with  little  cross- 
bows.' 

Then  he  showed  me  a  beautiful  green  grass-plot  in  the  garden,  prepared 
for  dancing,  where  hang  nothing  but  golden  fifes,  drums,  and  elegant  silver 
cross-bows.  But  it  was  now  early,  and  the  children  had  not  yet  eaten. 
Therefore  1  could  not  wait  for  the  dancing,  and  I  said  to  the  man, 1  Ah, 
dear  Sir,  I  will  instantly  go  away,  and  write  about  all  of  this  to  my  little  son 
John  ;  that  he  may  pray  earnestly  and  learn  well  and  be  pious,  so  that  he 
also  may  come  into  this  garden  ; — but  he  has  an  aunt  Magdalene,  may  he 
bring  her  with  him  ?'  Then  said  the  man, — '  So  shall  it  be  :  go  and  write  to 
him  with  confidence.'  Therefore,  dear  little  John,  learn  and  pray  with 
delight,  and  tell  Philip  and  James  too  that  they  must  learn  and  pray;  so 
you  shall  come  with  one  another  into  the  garden. — With  this  I  commend 
you  to  Almighty  God, — and  give  my  love  to  aunt  Magdalene;  give  her  a 
kiss  for  me.  Your  affectionate  father, 

In  the  year  1530.  MARTIN  LUTHER. 


THE 


FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 


PROFESSOR  FREDERICK  ROSTER. 


10 


THE  TRAGICAL  QUALITY 


IN  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID.1 


There  are  few  characters  in  the  Old  Testament  which  are  delin- 
eated in  a  light  so  advantageous  and  so  worthy  of  love  as  that  of 
Jonathan,  the  brave  son  of  king  Saul.  An  intimate  friendship  re- 
quires, by  its  very  nature,  that  every  strong  and  noble  feeling  in 
man  should  be  mingled  with  it.  We  accordingly  observe  that  all 
the  virtues  of  Jonathan  were  concentrated  and  pictured  in  his  friend- 
ship for  David.  Hence  Jonathan  and  David  rightfully  take  the  first 
place  in  the  distinguished  instances  of  friendship  handed  down  to  us 
from  antiquity.  The  bewitching  charm  which  surrounds  the  histo- 
ry of  this  friendship  consists,  perhaps,  very  much  in  the  circum- 
stance, that  the  dark,  back  ground  in  which  it  is  invested,  makes  it 
appear  but  the  more  touching.  The  picture  of  so  fine  a  sensibility, 
and  of  such  a  heroic  and  virtuous  companionship,  in  a  troubled  and 
confused  period,  refreshes  us  like  a  star  in  a  gloomy  night ;  and  it  is 
clearly  the  design  of  the  historian,  in  interweaving  this  picture,  to 
place  in  stronger  relief  the  exasperated,  suspicious  and  hateful  feel- 
ings of  king  Saul — contrasted  with  the  transparent  and  lovely  char- 
acter of  his  son.  But  the  story  of  Jonathan's  friendship  strongly  at- 
tracts our  attention  and  sympathy,  in  consequence  of  its  tragical 
course.  This  point,  hitherto  but  little  considered,  I  may  be  here 
allowed  to  illustrate  at  some  length.  Many  single  portions  of  the 
narrative  are  exhibited  in  a  better  light  and  with  greater  promi- 
nence, from  the  circumstance  that  our  historian,  with  all  apparent 
simplicity,  delineates  human  manners  as  few  writers  do.  It  is  won- 
derful, how  often,  by  a  single  word  or  by  the  position  of  a  word,  he 
indicates  the  finest  traits  in  character. 


1  See  JNote  at  the  end  of  this  Article. 


76  FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 

The  history  is  tragical,  since,  either  in  itself  or  in  its  consequences, 
it  so  exhibits  important  events,  that  our  sympathy  is  awakened,  and 
our  sensibility  deeply  excited.  An  action  is  strongly  characteri- 
zed as  tragical,  when,  though  never  fully  accomplished,  it  exhibits  a 
vehement  struggle  after  something  good,  lofty  and  noble,  developed 
by  a  complication  of  circumstances,  involving  a  severe  struggle  be- 
tween inclination  and  duty,  or  between  two  conflicting  inclinations. 
How  much  all  this  entered  into  Jonathan's  history,  may  be  seen  by 
the  following  observations. 

1.  The  friendship  of  Jonathan  is  not  only  in  its  origin,  generous 
in  the  highest  degree,  but  it  springs  up  suddenly,  as  if  by  a  stroke 
of  enchantment.  When  David,  the  shepherd's  heroic  son,  was  re- 
turning from  the  slaughter  of  the  giant  Goliath,  bearing  in  his  hand 
the  head  of  his  enemy,  and  was  introduced  to  Saul  by  his  general, 
Abner,  then,  as  it  appears  from  1  Sam.  18:  1,  compared  with  20:  17, 
"  the  soul  of  Jonathan  was  knit  with  the  soul  of  David,  and  lie  loved 
him  as  his  own  soul,  and  he  made  a  covenant  with  him."  How 
touchingly  do  these  words  delineate  the  nature  of  true  friendship,  as 
well  as  that  delicate  connection  between  two  persons,  (compare 
Gen.  44:  30),  whereby  they  melt,  as  it  were,  into  one!  But  such 
friendship  is  wont  to  be  awakened,  as  certainly  in  the  present  case, 
in  a  manner  one  knows  not  how.  Some  occurrence  at  a  particular 
juncture  reveals  unexpectedly  that  oneness  of  inclination  and  action 
which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  friendship.  David  had  slain  the 
champion  of  the  Philistines,  those  hereditary  enemies  of  Israel,  with 
whom  Jonathan  also  was  constantly  contending,  and  from  whom  he 
had,  on  one  occasion,  borne  off  a  splendid  trophy,  1  Sam.  xiv.  The 
courage  and  the  modesty,  the  gallantry  and  the  caution  which  David 
had  shown  in  this  encounter,  were  the  very  same  qualities  which 
pervaded  Jonathan's  great  soul.  He,  consequently,  did  not  think  of 
the  difference  between  a  king's  son  and  an  unknown  shepherd's  boy. 
No  vestige  of  envy  lest  David  should  divest  him  of  his  military  glory 
found  a  place  in  his  heart.  Involuntarily  and  irresistibly  he  felt  him- 
self drawn  to  the  youthful  hero.  This  moment  determined  forever 
the  direction  of  his  feelings. 

2.  We  may  have  observed,  that  friendship  has  rarely,  on  both 
sides,  an  equal  degree  of  vehemence.  In  the  case  of  one  of  two 
friends,  there  will  be  more  of  a  disposition  to  communicate  and  to 
make  sacrifices,  regardless  of  self :  while  the  other,  on  the  contrary, 


FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 


11 


will  be  rather  in  the  attitude  of  him  who  receives  and  acknowledges 
favors.  Such  is  the  fact  in  the  present  instance.  David's  friendship 
was  as  sincere,  but  it  was  less  glowing  than  that  of  Jonathan.  His 
spirit,  horn  for  dominion,  was  struggling  upward,  and  did  not  per- 
mit itself  to  be  ruled  by  any  single  passion.  Large  plans  for  the 
future,  and  thirst  for  glory  and  for  exploits  occupied  his  mind.  He 
must  have  felt,  indeed,  highly  honored  by  the  proposition  made  by 
the  king's  son  ;  heartily  he  must  have  returned  his  affection  ;  still 
he  had  room  in  his  soul  for  something  else.  The  friendship  of 
Jonathan  made  him  courageous  under  the  calamities  of  his  adven- 
turous course;  but,  in  addition,  he  restlessly  followed  his  widely  ex- 
tended enterprises.  Jonathan,  on  the  other  hand,  felt  himself  to  be 
thenceforth  merely  in  David,  and  he  lived,  as  it  were,  only  for 
David.  Even  at  the  outset,  he  gave  his  friend  every  thing  which  he 
had  at  hand,  in  order  to  bind  himself  to  him  in  the  most  intimate 
manner.  He  tendered  his  mantle,  his  coat  and  his  girdle — also  his 
sword  and  his  bow,  without  once  reflecting,  that  the  son  of  Jesse 
could  give  him  nothing  in  return.  Willingly  he  acknowledged 
David's  superiority,  and  when  he  knew  that  the  throne,  of  which  he 
was  the  heir,  was  destined  for  David,  1  Sam.  28:  30,  23,  18,  even 
this  could  not  make  him  faithless.  He  was  ready  to  do  everything 
for  his  friend,  20:  4 — everything,  and  to  offer  up  life  itself.  Hence, 
he  subsequently  gave  him  information  not  only  of  the  plots  of  his 
father,  but  defended  him  also,  in  repeated  instances,  against  Saul's 
aspersions  and  attacks.  On  one  occasion,  he  actually  succeeded  in 
reconciling  Saul  to  David,  1  Sam.  19:  1 — 7.  When  he  had  con- 
cealed his  friend  in  such  a  manner  that  he  could  be  an  unseen 
witness  of  the  conversation,  Jonathan  said  to  his  father  :  "  Let  not 
the  king  sin  against  his  servant,  who  hath  been  so  useful  to  him  !n 
Then  Saul  swore  that  he  would  not  kill  David,  and  David  came 
again  into  his  presence.  But  the  fire  which  glimmered  under  the 
ashes  soon  broke  out  afresh.  David  now  exhibited  solicitude  lest 
Jonathan  should  finally,  though  with  the  best  intentions,  leave  him 
in  the  hands  of  Saul,  20:  1 — 23.  Remembering  his  subordinate 
condition,  he  falls  immediately  into  the  tone  of  one  addressing  a 
superior,  and  says  :  "  Show  mercy  unto  thy  servant,  with  whom 
thou  hast  entered  into  covenant,  and  slay  me  thyself  rather  than  ex- 
pose me  to  thy  father."  Then  Jonathan  retired  with  his  friend  to  a 
solitary  place,  in  order  that  he  might  pour  out  his  heart  undisturbed. 


78 


FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 


Here  he  gave  full  vent  to  the  overflowings  of  his  enthusiastic  friend- 
ship. Once  and  again,  he  swore  eternal  fidelity,  v.  16,  17  ;!  and 
took  the  same  oath  of  him,  v.  23.  Since  David  had,  in  addition, 
made  mention  of  his  own  death,  Jonathan  would  still  as  it  were,  out- 
bid him,  "  as  soon  as  thou  hast  become  a  king,  thou  mayesl  indeed 
slay  me,  if  only  thou  wilt  remain  my  friend,"  v.  14,  15.2 

He  was  conscious,  that  he  could  not  find  words  sufficient  to  pro- 
test how  ready  he  was  to  sacrifice  throne  and  life  for  his  friend, 
He  was  not  contented  merely  with  words,  1  Sam.  20:  24 — 42. 
Saul,  on  one  occasion,  passed  over  in  silence  David's  absence  from 
the  royal  table  on  the  first  day  of  the  new  moon.  But  as  his  seat 
was  vacant  on  the  second  day,  he  inquired  the  reason.  Jonathan, 
in  accordance  with  a  previous  agreement  with  David,  answered, 
that  the  son  of  Jesse,  on  account  of  some  family  business,  had  asked 
leave  of  him  to  go  to  Bethlehem.  But  the  splenetic  king,  noticing 
the  pretence,  abusively  exclaimed,  "  Thou  foolish  rebel  !3  well  know 
I,  that  thou  hast  chosen  the  son  of  Jesse,  to  the  disgrace  of  thyself 
and  of  thy  mother  who  bore  thee.  For  so  long  as  he  lives,  thou 
wilt  not  attain  to  the  throne  !  Well,  bring  him  here  !  for  he  must 
die."  Then  Jonathan  defended  his  friend,  with  all  boldness : 
"  Why  should  he  be  put  to  death  ?  And  wherein  has  he  offended  ?" 
And  when  his  father,  infuriated  with  rage,  hurled  a  spear  at  him,  he 
sprung  from  the  table,  "  full  of  indignation  and  grief,  because  his 
father  had  treated  David  shamefully."  He  hastened  to  David,  to 
warn  him  of  the  impending  danger,  u  And  they  kissed  one  another, 
and  wept  one  with  another."    When  the  circumstance  is  added, 

1  The  passage  tjj?i!>,  etc.  is  elliptical  and  is  an  expression  of  certainty. 
"  He  made  a  covenant  with  David,  and  (said),  '  Jehovah  toiU  certainly 
punish  all  David's  enemies,  (me  also,  should  I  become  his  enemy.") 

2  These  affecting,  accumulated  words  are  variously  misinterpreted  by 
the  translators.  Jonathan  plays  on  David's  words,  v.  8,  "  Show  me  kindness 
and  slay  me."  He  now  says  in  reply  :  "Thou  wilt  not  need  that  I  should 
then  live — thou  wilt  then  have  no  occasion  to  show  kindness  (like  that  of 
God)  to  me,  in  order  to  preserve  my  life  (i.  e.  when  thou  art  made  a  king, 
then  thou  mayest  well  put  me  to  death,  if  policy  should  require  it),  if  only 
thou  wilt  not  withdraw  thy  kindness  from  my  (guiltless)  posterity." 

3  1  do  not  believe,  that  the  word  STiSJji  is  intended  to  attach  any  guilt  to 
Jonathan's  mother,  when  she  is  rather  mentioned  with  honor  in  what  fol- 
lows. But  the  participle  feminine  stands  for  the  abstract,  and  ,  by  a 
Hebraism,  forms  the  concrete  :  "  Thou  son  of  the  perverseness  of  rebellion." 


FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 


79 


that  "  David  exceeded"  in  weeping,  it  is  a  stroke  full  of  meaning. 
David  now  saw  the  sorrowful  future  that  was  before  him.  The 
dissension  between  himself  and  Saul  was  incurable.  He  must 
wander  on  in  misery.  Jonathan,  on  the  contrary,  in  order  to  keep 
up  the  spirits  of  his  friend,  assumed  a  firmer  tone  than  he  had  cm- 
ployed,  v.  41.  On  this  account,  he  thus  spoke  briefly  in  parting, 
u  As  we  have  sworn  that  there  shall  be  an  eternal  covenant  between 
us  and  our  posterity  (so  let  it  remain  !)1  Subsequently,  when  David 
had  wandered  in  various  places,  for  a  long  time,  Jonathan  sought 
him  out  in  a  wood  among  the  Ziphites,  as  a  proof  of  his  unalterable 
friendship,  and  certainly  not  without  personal  danger.  They  here 
once  more  joined  their  hands  instead  of  an  oath  (n^hbiO)}  and 
Jonathan  added,  44  that  David  need  not  fear,  for  Saul  could  not  find 
him  ;  he  also  knew  that  David  would  be  king." 

3.  Jonathan,  however,  in  consequence  of  his  profound  and  glowing 
friendship,  now  came  into  circumstances  of  the  most  painful  collision  ; 
and  it  is  this  which  gives  to  his  history  such  a  deep  tragical  charac- 
ter. In  repeated  instances,  Saul  had  publicly  declared  his  son  to  be 
a  miserable  traitor,  who  had  entered  into  a  conspiracy  with  the 
enemies  of  his  king  and  his  father.  It  is  touching  to  see,  how 
Jonathan  did  everything  possible  to  remove  this  reproach  from 
himself,  without  becoming  false,  in  the  least  degree,  to  his  friendship. 
In  order  to  avoid  the  inquiries  of  his  father  for  the  absent  David,  he 
resigned  to  Abner  his  accustomed  place  at  the  royal  table  next  the 
king,  and  took  a  seat  at  a  greater  distance,  20:  25.2  Besides,  when 
Saul  had  fully  resolved  upon  the  destruction  of  David,  the  latter  was 
warned  of  his  danger  by  Jonathan,  and  in  such  a  way  that  by  means 
of  privately  concerted  signals,  no  one  discovered  it.  On  a  certain 
occasion,  he  concealed  David,  outside  of  the  city,  20:  40,  at  the 
stone  Ezel,  where,  according  to  the  probable  conjecture  of  Josephus,3 
was  his  field  for  military  exercise,  somewhat  like  a  gymnasium — 
where  also  his  solitary  retirement  could  not  be  discovered.  He  now 
called  to  the  boy,  whose  duty  it  was  to  collect  the  arrows  which  had 
been  shot  away,  44  Is  not  .the  arrow  beyond  thee  ?"  He  thus  gave 
his  friend  a  hint  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  flee.  Under 

1  These  words  are  too  full  of  feeling  to  permit  the  ellipsis  to  be  supplied. 

2  This  seems  at  least,  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  obscure  expression  tpl. 

3  nnov  yvpvatousvog  Stsriksr}  it  is  called  in  Archaeol.  6,  11,  8.  So  also  1 
Sam.  20:  20,  "  Here  he  was  accustomed  to  shoot  at  a  mark  (mia^V). 


80 


FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 


cover  of  a  suitable  excuse,  he  thereupon  directed  the  lad  to  retire, 
while  he  poured  out  his  heart  to  David,  with  still  greater  freedom. 
Suspicion,  however,  proved  to  be  more  sharp-sighted  than  friendship. 
Soon  afterwards,  Saul  said  to  his  servants  assembled  around  him, 
22:  8,  "  Ye  all  have  conspired  against  me,  and  there  is  none  that 
showeth  me,  that  my  son  had  made  a  league  with  the  son  of  Jesse  ; 
therefore,  now  this  my  servant  seeketh  after  my  life."  Nevertheless, 
the  stain  which  was  here  publicly  fastened  upon  him,  the  noble  Jona- 
than at  last  removed  in  a  glorious  manner.  His  father,  whom  he  had 
never  forsaken,  he  faithfulty  followed,  even  in  that  last  battle  against 
the  Philistines  on  Mount  Gilboa  ;  and  as  Saul  fell,  Jonathan  also 
found  the  death  which  he  probably  sought,  in  order  that  he  might 
free  his  honor  from  the  suspicion  of  high  treason,  31:  2. 

4.  After  this  catastrophe  it  refreshes  us  to  hear,  how  precious  to 
David  was  Jonathan's  love.  Carefully  has  the  historian  collected 
every  circumstance  whereby  the  new  king  honored  the  memory  of 
his  departed  friend.  David  then  sung  the  celebrated  elegy,  2  Sam.  i, 
with  the  undoubted  design  of  rescuing  Jonathan's  name  from  all  ac- 
cusation of  having  entered  into  a  conspiracy  against  his  father.  Jon- 
athan is  intentionally  placed  before  Saul  in  this  beautiful  poem,  but 
still  he  appears  inseparable  from  his  father, — united  in  life  and  in 
death.1 

19  The  gazelle  (lies),  O  Israel,  slain  on  thy  mountains  ! 
How  are  the  mighty  fallen  ! 

20  Tell  it  not  in  Gath  ! 

Publish  it  not  in  the  streets  of  Ascalon  ! 

Lest  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines  exult! 

Lest  the  daughters  of  the  uncircumcised  triumph  ! 

21  Mountains  of  Gilboa  ! 

No  dew  nor  rain  upon  you  ! 

Be  a  field  for  execration  ! 2 

For  there  was  cast  away  the  shield  of  the  hero, 

The  shield  of  Saul, — no  (more)  anointed  with  oil. 

1  Tn  a  pdern  of  such  deep  emotion,  the  strophic  symmetry  cannot  appear 
strongly  marked.  Still,  the  first  three  verses  are  a  general  lamentation  ; 
the  three  following  are  devoted  to  the  two  heroes,  but  in  such  a  manner 
that  Jonathan  appears  preeminent  ;  the  last  three  are  employed  upon  Jona- 
than alone. 

*  [Or  let  it  not  be  a  field  for  oblations,  i.e.  yielding  rich  fruits. — Tr.] 


FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 


22  From  the  blood  of  the  slain,  from  the  flesh  of  the  mighty 
The  bow  of  Jonathan  turned  not  back, 

And  the  sword  of  Saul  returned  not  empty. 

23  Saul  and  Jonathan — lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  life, 
And  in  their  death  not  divided ; 

Swifter  than  eagles ! 
Stronger  than  lions ! 

24  Daughters  of  Israel !  weep  for  Saul, 

Who  clothed  you  in  crimson,  with  beautiful  decorations  ; 
Who  fitted  upon  your  raiment  ornaments  of  gold ! 

25  How  are  the  mighty  fallen  in  the  midst  of  the  battle  ! 
O  Jonathan,  slain  upon  thy  mountains ! 

26  Wo  be  to  me  for  thee,  my  brother  Jonathan ! 
Very  dear  wast  thou  to  me  ! 

Wonderful  was  thy  love  to  me — more  than  the  love  of  women  ! 

27  How  are  the  mighty  fallen! 

And  the  weapons  of  war  perished  ! 

David,  thereupon,  commended  the  inhabitants  of  Jabesh  Gilead, 
because  they  had  taken  care  of  the  remains  of  Saul  and  Jonathan, 
2  Sam.  2:  5 — 7.  He  thrice  showed  kindness1  to  Mephibosheth, 
Jonathan's  son,  and  that  too,  "for  Jonathan's  sake."  Mephi- 
bosheth was  not,  indeed,  an  object  of  fear  on  the  part  of 
David,  as  he  had  a  lameness  caused  by  a  fall  when  he  was  five 
years  old,  his  nurse  fleeing  with  him  on  the  news  of  his  father's 
death,  2  Sam.  4:  4.  But  David  sent  for  him  from  Lodebar  be- 
yond Jordan,  gave  him  a  permanent  seat  at  his  own  table,  and 
bestowed  upon  him  the  land  and  the  whole  private  estate  of  Saul, 
entrusting  the  management  of  the  property  to  Ziba,  who  had  been  a 
servant  of  Saul  and  the  overseer  of  his  house.  During  the  insurrec- 
tion of  Absalom,  this  Ziba  accused  Mephibosheth  of  entertaining 
designs  on  the  throne  as  his  own  right.  David  then  granted  the  whole 
of  Saul's  estate  to  Ziba,  2  Sam.  16:  3,  4.  The  historian,  however, 
gives  us  to  understand  that  this  was  a  false  accusation,  for  Mephibo- 
sheth had  never  put  off  his  mourning  garments  from  the  time  of 
David's  departure  till  his  return  home,  2  Sam.  19:  25 — 29.  David, 
in  the  meantime,  divided  Saul's  estate,  half  to  the  accuser  and  half 

1  Like  that  of  God  trn'Vs  toh- 
11 


FRIENDSHIP  OF  JONATHAN  AND  DAVID. 


to  the  accused.  This  might  have  been  owing  either  to  the  fact  that 
he  had  still  some  doubt  of  Mephibosheth's  innocence,  or  because  he 
had  pledged  his  word  to  Ziba,  v.  30, 31.  When,  subsequently,  David 
had  resigned  to  the  Gibeonites,  as  a  bloody  expiation,  the  remaining 
posterity  of  Saul,  (without  doubt  in  order  to  strengthen  the  succes- 
sion to  the  throne  in  his  own  family),  he  still  spared  Mephibosheth, 
"  on  account  of  the  oath  of  Jehovah  which  was  between  him  and 
Jonathan,"  2  Sam.  21:7.  As  a  satisfactory  conclusion  to  this  entire 
and  elegantly  delineated  picture,  the  history  states  that  David  honor- 
ably interred  the  bones  of  Saul  and  Jonathan  in  the  family  burial- 
place,  in  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  2  Sam.  21:  12. 


NOTE  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR,  p.  75. 

The  article  above  translated  is  found  in  the  Theol.  Stud,  u  Krit.,  Vol.  V. 
1832,  pp.  36(3— 37G.  The  writer,  John  Frederic  Koster,  theological  pro- 
fessor in  the  university  of  Kiel  in  Denmark,  was  born  in  1791.  In  an  article 
on  Rationalism  and  Supernaturalisrn  in  the  German  Conversations-Lexicon, 
he  is  classed  with  the  moderate  supernaturalists,  approaching  more  nearly 
to  such  men  as  Locke  and  Ullmann  than  to  Hengstenberg.  Some  of  the 
principal  publications  of  Prof.  Koster  are  the  following :  Meletemeta  Crit. 
et  Exeget.  in  Zachariae  Prophetae,  Cap.  IX — XIV.  1818;  Die  Strophen 
oder  der  Parallelismus  der  Verse  der  Hebraischen  Poesie.  His  object  in 
this  piece  is  to  show,  that  the  verses  of  Hebrew  poetry  are  regulated  by  the 
same  law  of  symmetry,  as  the  members  of  the  verses  ;  and  that  consequently 
this  poetry  is,  in  its  essence,  composed  of  Strophes,  i.  e.  its  verses  are 
arranged  in  symmetrical  divisions.  He  seems,  however,  to  give  the  name  of 
Strophe  to  that  which  we  are  accustomed  to  call  a  paragraph.  See  JBibl. 
Repos.  1.  Gil.  In  accordance  with  his  theory,  Koster  has  published  trans- 
lations of  the  books  of  Job  and  Psalms,  with  introductions  and  notes.  His 
remarks  display  extensive  knowledge  and  an  excellent  spirit.  He  has 
lately  inserted  in  the  Stud,  u  Krit.,  an  article  entitled,  'Notes  on  the  Old 
Testament  out  of  the  Book  of  Kosri.' 


PROPHECY  AND  SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


BY 

DR.  L.  J.  RUCKERT. 


ON  THE  GIFTS  OF  PROPHECY 

AND  OF 

SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 

[The  following  Article  may  be  found  at  the  close  of  Dr.  L.  J. 
Riickert's  Commentary  on  the  First  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  Leip- 
sic,  1836.  A  brief  notice  of  the  author,  together  with  some  account 
of  his  principles  of  interpretation,  may  be  seen  in  a  subsequent  part 
of  this  volume. 

The  subject  of  the  gift  of  tongues  is  confessedly  one  of  great  dif- 
ficulty. As  it  has  been  remarked,  we  have  lost  the  things  which 
the  terms  were  intended  to  denote.  A  great  variety  of  particulars 
which  were  perfectly  familiar  to  the  primitive  church  are  now  cover- 
ed with  darkness.  We  can  by  no  means  determine  the  exact  limits 
of  the  different  miraculous  gifts.  We  have  not  sufficient  data  to  re- 
concile, on  every  point,  the  notices  on  the  gift  of  tongues  in  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles,  with  those  in  the  Pauline  Epistles.  In  short,  a  state 
of  things  is  alluded  to,  (not  described),  which  ceased  with  the  life  of 
the  apostles,  or  soon  afterwards.  All  attempts  perfectly  to  repro- 
duce or  describe  it  must  fail.  The  principal  theories  on  the  subject 
of  the  gift  of  tongues  are  the  following  : 

1.  The  Holy  Spirit  miraculously  imparted  to  the  apostles  and  to 
many  of  their  disciples  the  power  to  use  foreign  languages,  which 
they  had  never  learned.  The  terms  '  tongues,'  '  other  tongues,'  etc. 
mean  foreign  languages,  or  languages  which  had  not  been  acquired 
in  the  ordinary  way.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  permanent  fa- 
culty of  the  individual,  which  he  could  employ  according  to  his  own 
discretion,  and  to  have  been  miraculous  only  in  the  mode  of  its  ac- 


86 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


quisition  in  the  first  instance.  It  is  also  regarded  as  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal supernatural  aids  granted  to  the  first  preachers  of  Christianity, 
and  which  enabled  them  so  soon  to  diffuse  it  through  the  world. 
The  '  interpretation,'  kpfirjvdtc,  was  needed  for  the  sake  of  those  who 
were  present  during  the  address  of  one  endued  with  the  gift  of 
tongues,  and  who  did  not  understand  the  language  in  which  he  spoke. 
This  general  theory  has  been  almost  universally  received  in  this  coun- 
try and  in  Great  Britain.  It  is  supported  by  the  use  of  the  epithets  val- 
vals, 4  new,'  in  Mark  16:  12,  and  kisQaig, 4  other,'  in  Acts  2: 4 ;  also  by 
the  entire  tenor  of  the  account  in  the  second  chapter  of  Acts,  and 
by  Paul's  citation  of  Isa.  28:  11  in  1  Cor.  14:  21.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  has  been  urged,  that  it  represents  the  miracle  as  one  of  an 
entirely  external  character,  and  imposed  upon  individuals  mechani- 
cally. Besides,  it  is  not  easy  to  unfold  the  idea  of  it,  nor  to  point 
out  its  real  object.  If  we  imagine  that  object  was  to  facilitate  the 
efforts  of  the  apostles  and  early  Christians  in  propagating  the  gospel 
in  distant  lands,  by  means  of  the  knowledge  of  foreign  languages 
which  this  gift  conveyed,  in  that  case,  we  go  beyond  the  record.  In 
the  inspired  narratives  the  gift  is  mentioned  as  manifesting  itself 
only  in  prayers  and  discourses  in  the  church. 

2.  Another  theory  maintains  that  yXwaua  is  the  tongue,  or  the 
physical  organ,  and  that  yXataaj]  XaXslv  means,  4  to  speak  only  with 
the  tongue,'  i.  e.  to  utter  inarticulate  sounds  which  give  no  meaning. 
According  to  this  theory  we  must  conceive  of  the  gift  as  an  inspired 
babbling  or  stammering.  It  is  wholly  incompatible,  however,  with 
the  passage  in  Mark  xvi,  and  with  the  history  in  Acts  ii.  What  kind 
of  an  effect  would  such  a  senseless  babbling  have  had  upon  intelli- 
gent hearers  ;  or  how  could  the  Holy  Spirit  have  communicated  it, 
or  Paul  given  precepts  for  its  regulation  ? 

3.  The  theory  adopted  by  Herder  and  De  Wette,  and  strenuously 
defended  by  Bleek,  is  the  following :  yXwaaat  are  peculiar  expres- 
sions, belonging  to  a  language  or  dialect  not  in  common  use,  and 
therefore,  not  known  to  all,  but  of  which  the  poets,  or  those  speaking 
under  the  influence  of  inspiration,  might  make  use.  This  theory,  it 
is  said,  is  strongly  supported  by  the  usage  of  the  word  yX&aua  in  the 
Greek  and  Roman  profane  writers.  Bleek  has  made  a  copious  col- 
lection of  illustrative  passages.  In  those  writers,  the  word  some- 
times denotes  antiquated  expressions,  which  had  dropped  out  of  com- 
mon use,  and  which,  when  again  employed,  required  a  particular  ex- 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


87 


planation.  Sometimes  also  the  word  means  idiotisms,  or  provincial 
expressions  which  are  employed  and  understood  only  in  certain  dis- 
tricts. Bleek  thus  describes  the  application  of  the  term  :  "  When  a 
believer  made  use  of  a  language,  as  decidedly  different  from  that  of 
common  life,  as  the  highly  poetic  language  of  the  lyric  poets  was 
from  that  of  simple  prose,  and,  when  from  his  natural  gifts  and  pre- 
vious education,  no  such  style  of  speaking  as  that  employed  by  him 
could  have  been  expected  ;  then  must  this  have  appeared,  of  necessi- 
ty, as  something  supernatural,  and  as  the  effect  of  that  miraculous  in- 
spiration by  which  they  saw  themselves  in  general  influenced.  When, 
moreover,  all  their  discourses  were  on  religious  subjects  ;  when  in  all, 
they  proclaimed  the  praise  of  God  who  had  proved  so  gracious,  and 
of  the  Saviour  through  whom  that  grace  was  extended  to  them,  as 
well  as  the  blessedness  they  had  found  in  believing  on  him, — how 
could  any  one  fail  to  find  in  such  a  yXwffaatg  kalelv  an  effect  of  the 
Spirit  whom  the  Lord  had  promised  to  send  to  his  people  ?"  Con- 
clusive arguments  against  this  theory  are  adduced  in  the  sequel  by 
Riickert. 

Olshausen  and  Neander  differ  somewhat  from  Bleek.  The  for- 
mer, Theol.  Stud.  u.  Krit.  III.  64 — 66,  admits  that  the  speaking  in 
glosses  was  a  speaking  in  an  elevated  poetical  strain  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  supposes  also,  that  it  sometimes  rose  to  be  actually  a 
speaking  in  foreign  tongues.  This  occurred,  he  imagines,  when  in- 
dividuals were  present,  who  understood  the  respective  tongues. 

"  In  the  gift  of  tongues,"  says  Neander,  "  the  high  and  ecstatic 
consciousness  in  respect  to  God  alone  predominated,  while  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  world  was  wholly  withdrawn.  In  this  condition, 
the  medium  of  communication  between  the  deeply  moved  inward 
man  and  the  external  world,  was  wholly  wanting.  What  he  spoke 
in  this  condition,  from  the  strong  impulse  of  his  emotions  and  in- 
ward views,  was  not  a  connected  discourse,  nor  an  address  adapted 
to  the  wants  and  circumstances  of  others."  u  He  was  wholly  occu- 
pied with  the  relation  of  his  own  soul  to  God.  The  soul  was  absorb- 
ed in  adoration  and  devotion.  Hence  to  this  condition  are  ascribed 
prayer,  songs  of  praise  to  God,  and  the  attestation  of  his  mighty 
deeds.  Such  an  one  prayed  in  spirit ;  the  higher  life  of  the  soul 
and  spirit  predominated  in  him.  When  therefore  in  the  midst  of 
his  peculiar  emotions  and  spiritual  contemplations  he  formed  for  him- 


8(8 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


self  a  peculiar  language,  he  was  wanting  in  the  power  so  to  express 
himself  as  to  be  understood  by  the  greater  number." 

It  is  not  necessary,  however,  to  proceed  further  with  our  notices 
of  the  peculiar  views  of  the  Germans  on  this  subject.  Those  who 
may  wish  for  additional  information  will  do  well  to  consult  J.  A.  Er- 
nesti,  Opuscula  Theol.  Lips.  1773, 457 — 476  ;  Heydenreich,  Comm. 
in  prior.  Pauli  ad  Corinth.  Epist.  II.  249 — 270  ;  Billroth,  Comm.  zum 
Corintherbriefe,  1833,  166 — 180  ;  the  Translation  of  the  same  in  the 
23d  No.  of  the  Edinburgh  Bib.  Cabinet,  13—35 ;  Neander  in  Bib. 
Repos.  IV.  249  ;  and  Olshausen,  Comm.  liber  das  N.  T.,|II.  582  seq. 
There  is  an  Article  on  the  subject  in  Vol.  II.  of  the  Stud.  u.  Krit. 
1829,  pp.  3 — 78,  by  Prof.  Bleek  of  Bonn.  Some  strictures  are  of- 
fered by  Olshausen  on  these  views  of  Bleek  in  the  same  volume,  pp. 
538—549.  To  these  Bleek  replied  in  the  following  year,  1830,  Vol. 
III.  pp.  45 — 64.  Some  brief  observations  are  appended  by  Olshau- 
sen, pp.  64 — 66,  in  which  he  seems  to  approach  nearer  to  the  opin- 
ion of  Bleek.  We  now  proceed  to  the  essay  of  Ruckert,  who,  it  will 
be  perceived,  coincides  substantially  with  the  commonly  received 
opinion. — Tr.] 


Introductory  Remark. 

In  the  Commentary  on  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  the  first  Epistle 
to  the  Corinthians,  I  took  pains  to  present  as  clearly  as  possible  all 
those  marks  which  might  serve  to  define  the  nature  of  those  spi- 
ritual gifts,1  which  are  now  to  be  more  closely  examined.  The  in- 
quiry will  be  pursued  in  the  following  treatise,  so  as  to  exhibit  in 
connection  what  was  before  considered  only  in  detached  parts.  I 
shall  also  compare  what  is  found  on  the  subject  elsewhere  in  the 
New  Testament,  weigh  the  views  of  preceding  writers,  and  from  all 
these,  present,  as  far  as  possible,  a  picture  of  the  gifts  as  a  whole. 
This  cannot  indeed  be  completed  with  the  fulness  which  a  mono- 
gram would  admit.    It  may,  however,  be  done  in  such  a  manner 


1  [Charismen,  yaqiofxaxa.  We  prefer  the  old  words.  1  gifts,'  1  spiritual 
gifts,'  to  the  terms  Charisma,  Charismata;  which  have  been  sometimes  em- 
ployed by  English  writers. — Tr.] 


PROPHECY. 


89 


that  it  will  not  be  the  author's  fault,  if  the  reader  should  quit  the  in- 
vestigation without  having  found  the  knowledge  which  was  sought. 

Prophecy. 

The  solution  of  the  problem  in  respect  to  prophecy  is  easy.  It 
can  be  stated  in  a  few  lines,  and  without  reference  to  the  labors  of 
others.  Even  in  Eph.  4:  11,  the  idea  of  a  christian  prophet,  as 
gathered  from  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  and  the  Pauline  Epistles,  is 
accurately  marked.  It  is  this  :  a  prophet  was  a  man  who,  without 
any  definite  office,  without  any  call  made  to  him  outwardly,  spoke, 
from  the  impulse  of  the  Divine  Spirit  dwelling  within  him,  words 
which  would  serve  for  the  information,  encouragement  and  strength- 
ening of  believers.  He  likewise  uttered  predictions  of  future  events, 
if  the  Spirit  suggested  such  to  him.  He  differed  from  an  apostle  in 
this,  that  he  was  not  sent  like  him  to  make  known  the  message  of 
salvation  to  unbelievers.  They  were  alike,  however,  in  respect  to 
the  nature  of  what  they  did  say.  Thus  the  apostle  was  also  a  pro- 
phet ;  but  the  prophet  as  such  was  not  an  apostle.  We  learn  from 
our  epistle  to  recognize  prophecy  as  a  gift  conferred  on  man  by  the 
Spirit,  1  Cor.  12:  10,  according  to  his  good  pleasure,  verse  11.  Man 
himself,  therefore,  could  neither  impart  nor  acquire  it,  though  it  was 
possible  for  him  to  strive  for  the  attainment  of  it.1  All  Christians 
did  not  possess  it.2  Inasmuch,  however,  as  Paul  desired  that  it 
might  be  enjoyed  by  all  verse  5,  he  did  not  consider  an  universal 
participation  in  it  impossible.  The  nature  of  the  declaration  to  be 
made  was  revealed  to  the  prophet,  and  this  revelation  certainly  could 
take  place  in  a  moment.3  Various  as  it  may  have  been,  still  the  man- 
ifestation of  the  hidden  secrets  of  the  human  heart  is  given  as  an 
elementary  part  of  the  prophetic  discourse.4  The  form  in  which 
the  prophecy  appeared  was  that  of  a  language  generally  understood. 
Thus,  doubtless,  the  language  of  the  country  which  was  in  every- 
day use  was  employed.  The  effect  which  it  produced  was  particu- 
larly directed  to  believers  verse  23,  and  consisted  in  the  edification 
and  spiritual  improvement  of  the  church.5  Unbelievers,  however, 
might  be  deeply  affected  by  it,  and  be  brought  to  self-knowledge  and 
to  the  worship  of  the  true  God.6    It  was  not  designed  for  a  contin- 

1  1  Cor.  14:  1,  39?~  sTCorTl^gT-  ~~ 3  1  Cor.  14: 13. 

4  1  Cor.  14:  24,  25.  5  1  Cor.  14:  3,  4.  6  1  Cor.  14  .  24,  25. 

12 


90 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


ued  existence.  On  the  contrary,  a  time  was  to  be  anticipated  and 
hoped  for — the  time  of  the  completion  or  fulfilment — when  there 
should  be  no  more  prophecy.1  All  this  is  stated  with  great  clear- 
ness and  definiteness.  It  completes  for  us  the  beautiful  picture  of  a 
preacher's  office,  free,  christian,  confined  to  no  situation,  having  no 
human  call  or  appointment.  It  was  an  office,  which  the  primitive 
church  in  its  simplicity  could  enjoy,  which  a  world  adorned  by  the 
name  of  a  church,  in  its  wisdom,  cannot  enjoy ;  so  little  can  we 
enjoy  it  that  if  the  Spirit  should  once  more  act  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  he  did  in  the  early  christian  times,  the  worldly  arm  of  a  civil 
power,  which  has  the  guardianship  of  the  church,  knows  how  to  ex- 
tinguish the  office  by  law  and  mad-houses. 

Speaking  with  Tongues. 

While  thus  the  nature  of  christian  prophecy  can  be  stated  almost 
with  perfect  precision,  on  the  other  hand  there  rests  upon  the  phe- 
nomenon that  is  wont  to  be  designated  by  the  words, 4  speaking  with 
tongues,'2  a  darkness  whose  impenetrableness  the  older  commentators 
perceived,  and  which  has,  by  no  means,  been  removed  by  the  addi- 
tional, very  praiseworthy  labors  of  modern  interpreters.  This  dark- 
ness, I  imagine,  can  never  be  perfectly  dispelled.  Far  as  possible 
am  I  from  supposing  that  I  can  accomplish  it.  I  shall  only  pursue 
my  duty  as  an  interpreter,  while  I  undertake  to  say  the  few  things 
on  the  subject  which  I  am  able  to  say.  I  shall  here  make  that  refer- 
ence to  the  labors  of  the  latest  interpreters,  already  named  in  the 
Commentary,  which  is  allowed  by  the  narrow  limits  which  I  am  com- 
pelled to  put  to  this  treatise.  A  fundamental  exhibition  of  what 
has  been  propounded  by  them  of  itself,  without  any  examination  of 
it,  would  occupy  more  room  than  I  have.  I  am,  therefore,  com- 
pelled to  refer  those  readers  who  wish  to  look  over  the  entire  dis- 
cussion to  the  treatises  of  those  learned  men  themselves,  which  be- 
sides are  not  difficult  of  access.  This  I  do  with  the  more  pleasure, 
as  the  excellent  things  laid  down  in  them  all  are  so  numerous  that 
no  one  will  regret  the  reading  of  them.  The  path  that  I  here  take 
seems  to  me  to  be  demanded  by  my  position  as  an  interpreter  of 
the  epistle  to  the  Corinthians.  The  author  of  a  monogram  might 
indeed  choose  his  point  of  departure  as  he  pleases.    He  might  begin, 

1  1  Cor.  13:  8—10.  2  yhoooaig  Xahtv. 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


91 


perhaps,  in  the  most  fitting  manner,  with  the  notices  in  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles.  The  interpreter  of  Paul,  however,  has  to  direct  his 
eye  first  to  that  which  the  apostle  himself  says  upon  the  topic,  and 
merely  to  call  in  those  notices  to  his  aid,  provided  the  words  of  the 
apostle  are  not  sufficient  of  themselves  to  afford  the  necessary  light. 

Preliminary  Remark  in  respect  to  the  Investigation. 

Two  observations  I  must  here  premise.  One  relates  particularly 
to  the  investigation  of  the  thing  ;  the  other  to  the  advantage  which 
we  are  authorized  to  expect  from  the  words  of  Paul.  Both  are  al- 
lied to  each  other.  Even  the  latest  authors1  seem  to  me  in  general 
not  to  have  sufficiently  considered  what,  in  a  subject  of  this  kind,  is 
the  principal  difficulty,  namely,  that  our  inquiry  cannot  be  so  much 
grounded  on  the  nature  of  the  gift  itself,  as  on  the  mode  in  which 
Luke  and  Paul  have  presented  it  to  us,  or  the  views  of  it  which  their 
representations  will  authorize.  They  are  the  only  men  whom  we 
have  to  testify  on  the  subject,  and  they  can  do  it  from  their  own  ob- 
servation. We  would  not  be  misunderstood  here,  as  though  the  sub- 
ject were  presented  by  them  otherwise  than  it  was  in  reality.  On 
the  contrary,  even  if  they  had  so  desired,  they  could  not  have  given 
an  untrue  representation,  because  they  wrote  for  contemporaries  and 
eye-witnesses,  and  even  for  those  who  shared  in  the  gift  itself.  If  they 
had  fully  delineated  its  nature  and  its  external  marks,  then  we 
should  have  accepted  their  view  as  perfectly  authentic.  This,  how- 
ever, they  do  not  do.  On  the  contrary,  Luke  supplies  a  few  scanty 
notices.  Paul  offers  to  his  readers,  who  were  familiar  with  the  thing, 
some  judgments  and  observations  upon  it.  Our  curiosity,  simply  arous- 
ed but  not  satisfied  with  the  information,  can  but  supply  in  the  way 
of  conjecture  what  the  history  has  not  given.  This  course  ought  to 
remain  unprohibited.  We  should  not,  however,  forget  that  we  are 
endeavoring  to  supply  an  historical  fact,  which  is  either  wholly 
unique  in  its  kind,  or  yet  for  us  so  obscure  that  we  do  not  know 
whether  among  the  phenomena  presented  to  our  experience  any 
thing  similar  can  be  found  or  not.  It  hence  follows  that  we  are  to  be 
on  our  guard,  first,  lest  we  place  too  much  reliance  on  analogies 
drawn  from  other  facts,  not  knowing  whether  the  observed  analogies 

1  Baumlein  only  excepted,  who  merits  the  highest  praise  of  all,  especially 
for  his  thoroughness,  method  and  impartiality. 


92  SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 

are  essential  or  accidental,  real  or  only  apparent ;  secondly,  lest  we 
should  wish  to  press  with  our  psychological  principles — derived  only 
from  experience — upon  an  actual  phenomenon  where  all  experience 
fails  us ;  and  thirdly,  lest  our  metaphysical  or  theological  views 
should  decide  questions  where  historical  arguments  alone  can  deter- 
mine. If  arguments  of  this  nature  fail  us,  then  the  question  must 
remain  unsettled.  By  observing  these  cautions  we  are,  to  be  sure, 
cut  off  from  the  most  copious  sources  of  statement  and  illustration ; 
we  also  subject  ourselves  to  the  danger  of  being  compelled  to  con- 
fess our  ignorance  on  most  points.  At  the  same  time  we  avoid,  as 
it  seems  to  me,  the  far  greater  danger  of  creating  a  fact  for  our- 
selves, which  is  like  the  actual  truth  hardly  in  the  remotest  features. 

Preliminary  Remark  in  respect  to  Paul's  Language. 

The  second  observation  is  this — we  may  venture  to  hope  that  we 
can  ascertain  from  the  words  of  the  apostle,  not  the  nature  of  the 
gift  of  tongues  in  Corinth,  but  the  nature  of  this  gift  as  Paul  himself 
understood  it.  He  was  in  the  possession  of  it  j1  he  imparted  it  to 
others.2  Thus  far,  accordingly,  we  may  expect  that  he  "will  de- 
lineate it  as  it  was  ;  that  nothing  will  be  said  by  him  which  was 
foreign  from  it.  But  the  violent  proceeding  of  the  Corinthians  in 
relation  to  it,  he  could  not  know  from  his  own  observation.  What 
he  had  learned  through  others  could  not  but  be  imperfect,  because 
these  may  have  known  it  only  of  Corinth.3  That  it  was  actually  so, 
the  handling  of  the  subject  which  he  has  deigned  to  give  is  an 
incontrovertible  evidence.  He  exhibits  the  '  speaking  with  tongues,' 
always,  as  an  actual  gift  of  the  Divine  Spirit — as  a  donative  which, 
good  in  itself,  and  salutary  to  its  possessor,  could  not  have  been 
fitted  for  use  in  the  church  on  account  of  its  not  being  understood. 
Paul  recommends  that  it  be  employed  but  rarely  in  the  assemblies. 
How  can  we  therefore,  how  dare  we  admit  that  this  was  the  gift  of 
I  1  Cor.  14:  18.  2  Acts  18:  67~ 

3Eichhorn.  Einl.  III.  121,  128,  has  also  made  a  similar  remark.  He  does 
not,  however,  apply  it  correctly.  He  has  well  explained  the  caution  which 
the  apostle  observed  in  his  treatment  of  the  subject;  but  the  hypothesis, 
which  he  frames  out  of  the  words  of  the  apostle  that  relate  to  the  disorder  in 
the  Corinthian  church,  is  altogether  inconsiderate.  Here  Eichhorn  has 
gone,  characteristically,  into  as  copious  details  as  if  he  knew  more  about  it 
than  Paul  himself 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


93 


tongues  in  Corinth  1  However  any  one  may  judge  finally  of  the 
Spirit  himself  and  of  his  gifts,  still  all  may  unite  in  this,  that  the  gift 
in  question  was  the  result  of  a  divine  energy,  and  that  its  workings 
could  be  disclosed  only  in  the  individual  who  was  himself  warmed 
and  enlivened  by  it  in  favor  of  that  which  was  good  and  holy.  But 
that  this  last  effect  could  not  be  attributed  to  the  Corinthians  generally, 
our  epistle  must  have  probably  convinced  us.  Of  particular  persons 
nothing  is  here  said.  The  assertion  respects  the  majority,  since  in 
Corinth  the  speaking  with  tongues  was  excessive,  and  was  shared 
in  by  multitudes.  The  majority,  however,  were  far  from  possessing 
the  christian  feeling  which  could  induce  us  to  believe  that  the 
Holy  Spirit  had  made  them  particularly,  in  preference  to  many 
others,  his  abode  and  scene  of  operation.  The  greater  part  [of  this 
exhibition]  in  Corinth  was  probably  mere  imitation  and  parade. 
But  in  what  manner  exactly  this  was  shown,  how  far  it  proceeded, 
and  into  what  caricatures  it  transformed  the  original  phenomenon — 
on  these  points  Paul  himself  had  perhaps  no  knowledge ;  or  if  he 
had,  he  concealed  it,  because  he  did  not  learn  it  from  his  own  obser- 
vation. *  He  contented  himself,  for  the  moment,  in  limiting  its  ex- 
cessive use  in  the  church,  until  he  could  be  present  in  person  to  dis- 
tinguish truth  from  falsehood  and  expose  the  hypocrisy.  We,  how- 
ever, who  have  nothing  at  command  besides  that  which  Paul  com- 
municates in  his  epistles,  must  be  contented,  in  our  efforts  to  form 
an  acquaintance  with  the  subject  in  general,  simply  with  what  flows 
in  a  direct  way  from  his  words.  We  may  also  compare  the  notices  in 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles.  At  all  events,  that  must  be  regarded  as 
peculiar  to  the  subject  as  developed  at  Corinth  which  cannot  be 
brought  into  agreement  with  the  notices  of  Luke. 


The  Gift  of  Tongues  an  actually  spoken  Language. 

To  the  inquiry,  how  Paul  understood  the  gift  of  tongues,  we  must 
answer,  first,  that  he  recognized  it  as  an  actual  speech  or  language, 
and  as  entirely  foreign  from  the  notion  of  an  inarticulate,  senseless 
sound.1    Whether  any  thing  like  this  existed  at  Corinth,2  we  must 

1  This  is  the  view  of  Bardili  and  Eichhorn  ;  also  of  Bertholdt.  It  may, 
however,  be  variously  confuted.  Yet  Olshausen  II.  575,  577,  has  assented 
to  it  with  some  limitations. 

2  This,  properly  speaking,  is  maintained  only  by  the  defenders  of  the  view 
in  question,  i.  e.  Bardili,  etc. 


94 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


leave,  after  what  has  been  said,  undetermined.  That  Paul  himself 
had  no  such  idea  is  obvious  not  only  from  1  Cor.  14:  9,  but  also  from 
the  fact  that  it  is  impossible  that  he  could  have  ever  regarded  such  a 
senseless  stammering  and  howling — if  it  came  out  fully — as  any 
thing  good,  edifying,  or  desirable  ;  in  short  that  he  could  view  it  as  a 
gift  of  God,  and  admonish  the  Corinthians  (which  he  has  actually 
done),  that  God  was  to  be  served  by  them  in  an  orderly  manner,  while, 
as  it  will  appear,  he  has  not  uttered  a  word  about  any  thing  un- 
known or  unintelligible.  Some  persons  may  refer  to  "  the  groanings 
which  cannot  be  uttered,"1  but  of  this  we  not  only  know  far  too 
little  which  would  enable  us  to  build  aught  upon  it,  but  in  the  passage 
before  us  there  is  nothing  at  all  said  of  "  groanings  ;"2  it  is  '  speak- 
ing,'3 and  a  '  declaration.'4  Therefore,  there  is  not  the  remotest  re- 
semblance in  the  expression  even.  That  this  speech  or  language  was 
audibly  uttered  cannot  be  inferred5  with  certainty  from  what  Paul 
has  said.  All  these  phenomena — the  '  interpretation'6  itself  not  ex- 
cepted—might as  well  have  occurred  when  any  one  who  was  in- 
fluenced by  the  Spirit  actually  spoke.  But  on  the  ground  that  one 
made  known  the  secret  workings  of  his  mind  by  mere  pantomime, 
by  an  inaudible  moving  of  the  mouth  outwardly,  then  he  alone  could 
understand,  whom  the  Spirit  had  put  into  a  similar  state.  The 
unlearned,  or  uninitiated,  however,  must  have  been  almost  compelled 
to  regard  it  as  a  sign  of  madness,  especially  if  it  often  occurred.  At 
all  events  the  words,  1  let  there  be  silence,'7  is  decidedly  against  it. 
If  we  must  grant,  however,  that  the  inarticulate  speaking  was  a  dis- 
tinguishing mark  of  the  gift  of  tongues  as  conferred  at  Corinth,  still, 
in  this  case,  there  must  have  been  discovered  in  the  apostle's  words 
some  vestige  of  a  deviation  from  the  general  form  in  which  the 
gift  was  manifested.  But  no  such  trace  can  be  found.  The  tongue, 
as  Paul  understands  it,  was  accordingly  not  merely  a  discourse, 
but  a  discourse  audibly  uttered.  Meanwhile,  nothing  further  is 
said  about  the  length  or  brevity,  the  fulness  or  the  marked  ab- 
ruptness of  it.  The  tongue  was  not,  however,  a  single  one,  but 
there  appear  to  have  been  various  species  of  it,  distinguished  from 

1  orevayfiovg  akaX^rovg  Rom.  8:  26.  2  ortvayfiovg 

3  XaXetv  4  loyog 

5  This  has  been  already  remarked  in  the  Commentary  on  1  Cor.  14:  2. 

6  tQfjLrjveia.  7  oiyaro> 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


95 


each  other.1  Thus  Chap.  xiv.  often,  it  is  true,  uses  the  singular 
number,  but  never  with  the  article.2  Had  the  gift  of  tongues  been 
a  mode  of  speaking  which,  in  all  the  various  forms  of  it — occasioned 
by  the  ideas,  by  the  individuality  of  the  speaker  or  by  other  causes — 
yet  ever  retained  one  and  the  same  essential  character,  for  ex- 
ample, abruptness  or  high  elevation,  or  certain  favorite  forms,  then 
the  language  would  indicate  this.  It  would  have  been  named  4  the 
tongue,'  or  '  speaking  by  a  tongue,1  not  'ihe  tongues,'  or  the  4  kind 
of  tongues.'3  Since  then  the  last  named  forms  actually  appear,  we 
must  suppose  that  the  single  gift  appeared  in  its  manifestations  so 
essentially  diverse  that  it  was  possible  to  distinguish  several  kinds. 
The  power  to  speak  in  this  way  was  a  gift  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  like 
all  the  other  qualifications  of  Christians  which  were  peculiar  to  them 
as  such.4  Thus  it  was  also  a  gift  of  God,5  which  the  Spirit  in  his 
free,  good  pleasure  had  communicated,6  and  which  therefore  all  did 
not  possess.7  Accordingly,  it  was  not  anything  that  was  learned  or 
acquired.  Man,  according  to  his  own  inclination,  could  not  impart 
it.  Since  the  Spirit  communicated  his  gifts  only  to  believers,8  they 
alone,  therefore,  possessed  this  power ;  and  it  was  not  communicated 
to  them  till  they  had  received  the  Spirit.  This  gift,  moreover,  was 
not  bestowed  from  the  mere  fact  of  their  being  Christians.  That  it 
was  something  miraculous  however,  in  the  doctrinal  sense,  does  not 
of  course  follow,  for  the  language  of  the  New  Testament  not  only 
does  not,  in  general,  recognize  this  distinction  between  the  natural 
and  supernatural,  but  there  are  found  to  be  enumerated  several  gifts,9 
which  can  in  no  manner  be  considered  as  imparted  supernaturally. 

1  This  is  said  in  so  many  words  1  Cor.  12:  28,  4  diversities  of  tongues.' 

2  Verse  9  does  not  belong  here,  '  To  another  faith  by  the  same  Spirit,'  etc. 

3  xr)v  yXojooaVj  or  ylojoooloylaVj  not  rag  yXojooaS;  or  yivsotv  ykojoaojv. 

4  1  Cor.  12:  7—12. 

5  See  verse  28  in  the  same  chapter. 

6  1  But  all  these  worketh  that  one  and  the  self-same  Spirit,'  etc. 

7  Comp.  verse  30,  '  Do  all  speak  with  tongues,'  etc.,  with  1  Cor.  14:  5,  1  I 
would  that  ye  all  spake  with  tongues,'  etc. 

8  This  may  well  be  received  as  the  predominant  view  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment. 

9  1  Cor.  12:8 — 10,  28,  gifts  of  healing,  helps,  governments,  etc.  [The 
author  is  probably  incorrect  in  this  remark  ;  it  seems  to  be  the  general  doc- 
trine of  the  New  Testament  that  most,  if  not  all  the  gifts  in  question  were 
miraculous. — Tr.] 


96 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


Even  from  Ch.  14:  221  this  cannot  follow  with  perfect  certainty, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  conceivable,  that  it  served  somewhat  as  a  sign, 
dg  (ttjuuov  to  another  person,  that  is,  as  a  mark  of  admonition, 
without  being  absolutely  in  consequence  a  supernatural  event  in  our 
sense.  At  what  time  or  manner  an  individual  came  into  the  pos- 
session of  it,  whether  he  continued  in  the  enjoyment  of  it,  or  whether 
it  was  only  for  a  limited  time  and  under  given  circumstances — re- 
specting these  and  other  related  questions,  Paul  gives  us  no  answer. 
This  only  we  learn,2  that  it  was  possible  not  to  make  use  of  the  gift ; 
that  he  who  could  speak  with  tongues  had  it  in  his  power  to  do  it  or 
not  to  do  it  according  to  circumstances  and  opinions  of  propriety. 
It  hence  follows  that  Paul  did  not  recognize  him  who  spoke  with 
tongues  as  one  who  was  in  an  unconscious  condition,  not  having 
command  over  himself — a  passive  instrument  of  a  higher  power  that 
ruled  over  him  ;  for,  from  such  persons  he  could  not  have  expected 
the  reflection  and  deliberation  which  are  there  mentioned.  In  that 
case,  he  would  by  no  means  have  commanded  the  employment  or 
the  non-employment  of  the  gift.  The  same  thing  may  also  be  in- 
ferred from  the  fact  of  his  saying  that  the  one  who  spoke  with 
tongues  edifies  himself,  while  we  cannot  believe,  that  the  intelligent 
and  discreet  Paul  expected  a  salutary  spiritual  and  moral  influence 
from  words  which  the  speaker  poured  out  unconsciously,  and 
which  consequently  could  be  neither  understood,  nor  made  use 
of.  When  therefore  he  says,  1  he  that  speaketh  with  tongues, 
speaketh  in  spirit  or  in  the  spirit,  his  spirit  speaketh,  while  his  mind 
is  unfruitful,1  verse  14, — we  cannot  in  this  find  any  proof  of  an  un- 
conscious state  ;  but  we  are  rather  to  recollect,  that  even  the  prophet 
uttered  words  '  by  the  spirit,'  and  therefore  we  are  certainly  to  look 
for  an  elevated  condition  in  the  one  who  spoke  with  tongues — a 
condition  in  which,  according  to  the  views  of  the  apostle,  that  in- 
telligence and  inward  energy  which  rested  in  the  man,  appears  to 
have  been  a  predominant  spiritual  power  that  dwelt  in  him,  but  not 
of  such  a  nature,  that  he  knew  not  what  he  uttered,  or  what  befel 
him.    The  unfruitfulness  of  the  mind,  however,  he  placed  in  this 

1  <  Wherefore  tongues  are  for  a  sign,  not  to  them  that  believe,  but  to  them 
that  believe  not,'  etc. 

2  1  Cor.  14,  27,  28,  39.  "  If  any  man  speak  in  an  unknown  tongue,  let  it 
be  by  two,  or  at  the  most  by  three,"  etc.;  ;'  and  forbid  not  to  speak  with 
tongues." 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


97 


alone,  that  the  man  did  not  here  labor  with  self-possession ;  what  was 
imparted  to  him  by  the  Spirit,  he  only  passively  received ;  he  did 
not  work  it  up,  turning  it  to  a  practical  account,  as  was  the  case  in 
relation  to  prophecy.  Respecting  the  nature  of  what  was  uttered, 
definite  information  indeed  fails  us  ;  thus  much,  however,  we  learn 
from  Ch.  14:  5,1  that  only  when  it  was  not  understood  by  the  hearer, 
was  it  inferior  to  that  which  was  uttered  by  the  prophet ;  thus  even 
the  one  as  well  as  the  other  could  be  made  the  means  of  edification. 
We  see,  however,  from  verses  14 — 17,  that  it  must  have  been  chiefly 
the  form  of  a  prayer,  of  a  song  of  praise,  or  of  thanksgiving ;  so 
likewise  from  verses  2,  28,  that  the  gift  of  tongues  was  directed 
mainly  to  spiritual  intercourse  with  God.  Thus  from  all  these  marks, 
we  may  perhaps  rightly  conclude  that  the  gift  was  particularly 
employed  in  publishing  the  mighty  works  of  God  for  the  redemption 
of  mankind  ;  but  it  differed  from  prophecy  in  this,  that  while  the 
latter  communicated  definite  instruction  to  the  hearers  in  respect  to 
salvation,  verse  19,  the  gift  of  tongues,  without  any  special  reference 
to  the  needs  of  the  hearer,  poured  itself  out  in  loud  praise  of  the 
works  which  had  been  accomplished.  And  inasmuch  as  such  an 
out-pouring  could  not  find  a  place — or  at  least  should  not — without 
an  inward  feeling  and  apprehension  in  the  heart,  of  the  wonderful 
grace  of  God,  Paul  might  well  desire  that  all  believers  should  speak 
with  tongues,  verse  4,  and  that  the  unlimited  edification  of  the  one 
who  spoke  should  be  seen  as  the  fruits  of  his  words,  verse  5. 

Up  to  this  point  everything  appears  tolerably  clear  and  simple ; 
we  recognize  in  the  speaking  with  tongues  the  out  flowings  of  a 
heart  influenced  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  so  also  thoroughly  per- 
vaded by  a  feeling  arising  from  the  wonderful  works  of  God  in  the 
redemption  of  mankind.  We  may  very  readily  conceive,  that  such 
experience  would  not  be  wanting  in  the  emotion  which  sprung  up  in 
consequence  of  the  blessing  just  received.  We  may  also  suppose  that 
these  feelings  were  very  strong.  That  the  tranquil  operation  of  the 
understanding  was  for  a  short  time  suspended  and  obscured,  is  not 
strange  to  us,  when  we  consider  the  character  of  the  oriental  world, 
and  the  many  phenomena  existing  in  the  church,  at  a  later  time, 
when,  almost  at  once,  Christianity  brought  a  strong  excitement 


1  Ch.  14:  5,  "  I  would  that  ye  all  spake  with  tongues,  but  rather  that  ye 
prophesied,"  etc. 

13 


98 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


upon  the  feelings,  so  that  a  great  excess  and  a  spiritual  extravagance 
need  not  create  astonishment.  We  often  observe  similar  things  in 
history.  We  must  believe  that  up  to  this  point,  we  have  rightly 
apprehended  the  thing,  because  we  have  advanced  no  conclusion, 
for  which  we  have  not  found  arguments  either  in  the  words  them- 
selves, or  in  what  we  know  of  the  religious  views  of  the  apostle 
from  his  own  writings. 

Now,  however,  we  come  to  the  knot  of  the  riddle.  This  consists 
in  part  in  the  unusual  name  which  is  given  to  the  mode  of  speaking 
in  question,1  and  partly  in  the  various  explanations  of  the  apostle. 
He  represents  it  as  useless  to  the  church  because  it  could  be  under- 
stood by  no  one  without  an  interpreter,— thus  appearing  like  mad- 
ness to  those  unacquainted  with  the  phenomenon.2  We  must  sub- 
join that  if  the  common  mode  of  explanation  of  verse  133  be  correct, 
then  the  one  who  spoke  could  not  give,  in  every  case,  the  interpre- 
tation of  what  he  had  said  ;  and  if  he  could  do  it,  this  even  was  to 
be  regarded  as  a  gift  of  God  just  as  much  as  the  original  endow- 
ment. The  inability  to  understand  a  discourse  audibly  uttered  may 
have  had  its  origin,  either  in  the  contents  of  the  discourse  or  in  its 
form.  That  it  does  not  lie  in  the  contents  is  sufficiently  proved,  as 
I  think,  in  my  Commentary.  On  such  a  supposition,  moreover,  there 
would  be  no  significance  in  the  name.  This  inability  is  therefore  to 
be  sought  externally,  in  the  form.  Here  I  recognize  three  possible 
reasons  why  it  could  not  be  understood. 

These  are  the  unintelligible  enunciation — the  obscurity  of  the 
style — or  the  foreign  language  unknown  to  the  hearer.  This  last 
might  have  originated  in  various  ways.  The  unintelligible  utterance 
would  not  fall  in  with  Eichhorn's  hypothesis  of  stammering,  for  in 
this  case,  there  were  actual  words;  but  furthermore  it  could  never 
have  been  regarded  as  a  gift.  Besides,  it  would  have  been  very 
easy  for  the  one  who  spoke  to  have  uttered  his  sentences  clearly. 
This  supposition  has  absolutely  nothing  in  its  favor.  Before  we  in- 
vestigate the  other  two,  we  will  turn  our  attention  to  that  which  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles  presents  us. 

1  yXolaaatg  or  y?.o!GGt/  kaXur. 

2  1  Cor.  14:  2,0,  !>,  16, 17,  23. 

3  '  Wherefore  let  him  that  speakethin  Jin  unknown  tongue  pray  that  he 
may  interpret.' 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


99 


Notices  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 

We  find  in  Ch.  19:  6,  the  mention  of  twelve  disciples  of  John  who 
received  the  Holy  Spirit  by  the  ministration  of  the  apostle,  and 
immediately  spoke  with  tongues  as  well  as  prophesied.    This  pas- 
sage, however,  serves  us  merely  as  a  certain  proof  that  Paul  could 
impart  from  his  own  inward  power  the  gift  to  others,  as  well  as  that 
he  possessed  it  himself.1    It  also  shows  us  that  these  two  gifts, 
differing  from  each  other,  were  received  at  the  same  time  with  the 
communication  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  indeed,  as  it  appears  sudden- 
ly ;  it  shows  nothing  respecting  their  nature.    A  second  passage,2 
likewise,  teaches  us  the  contemporaneousness  of  the  reception  of  the 
influence  of  the  Spirit  and  the  entrance  of  the  gift  of  tongues,  and 
strengthens  us  in  our  conception  of  the  meaning  of  what  was  uttered 
by  the  words  (xtycdwovTav  rbv  &sov.    In  regard  to  what  belongs  to 
the  form  of  its  manifestation,  the  words  of  Peter,3  and  so  likewise 
the  reference  of  the  same  apostle  to  this  event,4  merely  teach  us, 
that  it  had  presented  itself  to  him,  an  eyewitness,  altogether  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  first  exhibition  of  this  gift  on  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost ;  and  since  there  is  no  other  passage  yet  extant  which  shows 
us  anything  respecting  it,5  we  see  ourselves  driven  back  entirely  to 
Acts  ii.  as  the  main  text.    When,  however,  we  consider  this  narra- 
tive with  an  entirely  unprejudiced  eye,  we  cannot  resist  the  con- 
clusion, that  Luke  has  narrated  the  circumstances  in  the  following 
manner :  The  persons  there  assembled,  on  the  moment,  when, 
(with  the  rushing  of  the  wind  and  the  appearance  of  flames  of  fire 
on  their  heads),  the  Holy  Spirit  had  fallen  upon  them,  did  actually 
speak  in  the  languages  of  the  strangers  mentioned  in  verses  9  and  10. 
The  most  astonishing  feature  in  the  entire  event  was  this, — the  men 
who  unexpectedly  possessed  and  exercised  this  power  were  Galileans, 

1  1  Cor.  14: 18,  '  I  thank  my  God  I  speak  with  tongues  more  than  ye  all.' 

2  Acts  10:  44-47.  3  Acts  10:  47.  4  Acts  11:  15.  17,  15:  8,  9. 

5  The  power  indeed  which  Simon  Magus,  Acts  8:  18,  19,  desired  to  pur- 
chase of  Peter  might  be  only  that  which  the  gift  of  tongues  would  enable 
him  to  effect;  we,  however,  learn  nothing  of  that  in  which  it  consisted,— at 
most  we  ascertain  the  single  circumstance,  that  it  was  something  very 
striking  which  Simon  believed  that  he  could  not  himself  effect,  but  by 
which,  if  he  could  procure  it,  he  expected  that  he  should  gain  much  with 
the  astonished  multitude. 


100 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


of  whom  nothing  like  this  could  have  been  anticipated.  This  view 
of  it  was  everywhere  the  predominant  one,  until  a  genuine  spirit  of 
investigation  had  undermined  it  in  various  ways.1 

Various  Hypotheses. 

Here  is  not  the  place  to  repeat  the  many  explanations  of  the  phe- 
nomenon which  are  collected,  perhaps  in  the  fullest  manner,  in  Ruin- 
ed's  Commentary  on  the  Acts.  Of  these  it  is  necessary  to  name  only 
what  the  more  recent  investigations  on  the  gift  of  tongues  have  ad- 
vanced for  and  against  this  interpretation.  Here,  first,  Bleek2  meets 
us  in  the  history  of  the  Pentecost,  with  the  following  difficulties.  1. 
The  speaking  of  the  disciples  with  tongues  occurred  before  the 
multitude  of  foreign  Jews  had  come  together,  which  must  have  ap- 
peared wholly  without  an  object,  since  words  in  foreign  tongues 
could  not  have  served  as  the  natural  expression  of  religious  feelings. 
2.  That  if  each  one  spoke  a  particular  language,  and  if  he  was 
understood  by  those  to  whom  this  was  vernacular,  no  reproach  of 
drunkenness  could  have  fallen  on  those  who  spoke.  3.  Peter  in  the 
subsequent  discourses  makes  no  mention  whatever  of  foreign  lan- 
guages. Bleek  remarks  subsequently,  that,  if  the  narrative  can  be 
understood  only  of  foreign  tongues,  then  he  must  conclude  that  this 
circumstance  was  owing  to  an  incorrect  understanding  of  it  by  the 
reporter,  [on  whom  Luke  depended.]  This  he  would  do,  rather 
than  recognize  the  actual  speaking  in  foreign  languages.3  Baur 
goes  a  step  further  still,  when  he  allows,4  that  such  could  not  have 
been  the  words  in  the  account  of  the  Pentecost,  but  that  they  belong 
to  a  traditional  transformation  of  them,  which  transformation  the 
original  fact  had  already  here  received.  The  character  of  this 
transformation  he  seeks  to  point  out  from  the  poetico-rhetorical 
bearing  of  verses  6 — 12,  from  the  obscurity  in  respect  to  the  word 
4  others'5  in  verse  13,6  and  from  the  failure  of  all  traces  of  the  event. 
Neander  regards  the  narration  simply  as  obscure,  and  hence  would 
explain  it  from  the  remaining  portions.    Since  these  contain  nothing 

1  Perhaps  a  dread  of  anything  miraculous  was  the  original  occasion  of 
this  change.    ['  Genuine'  in  many  respects,  but  misdirected  here. — Tr.] 

2  1.  17,  18.  3  II.  62,  63.  4  P.  105,  106  note. 

6  Acts  2:  13,  "  Others  mocking,  said  these  men  are  full  of  new  wine." 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


101 


about  foreign  tongues,  and  since,  moreover,  there  could  be  no  use 
for  such  an  endowment,1  then  he  can  admit  nothing  like  this. 
That  of  a  positive  nature,  however,  which  these  learned  men 
present  for  the  tongues  in  question,  is  various.  Bleek  explains  the 
word  yXwwa  thus, 4  an  antiquated,  provincial,  altogether  uncommon 
mode  of  speech,  and  without  a  particular  explanation,  unintelligible  ; 
hence  it  could  have  been  of  use  to  those  only,  who,  as  orators  and 
poets,  spoke  in  a  lofty  tone  of  feeling.'  This  explanation,  which 
others  also  had  contemplated  before  him,  he  seeks  to  establish 
philologically  by  a  very  learned  examination  of  the  usage  of  ylwaua 
in  Greek  ;  he  then  turns  to  the  existing  forms  of  the  expression  in 
the  New  Testament  and  endeavors  to  exhibit  the  occurrences  men- 
tioned in  the  Acts  and  in  the  epistle  to  the  Corinthians  as  words  in  a 
lofty  poetical  dialect,  with  a  mingling  of  such  glosses.  They  were 
consequently  unintelligible  to  the  majority  of  the  hearers,  while  the 
inability  of  the  speaker  to  explain  his  own  words  was  owing  to  the 
failure  of  his  recollection.2  That  such  words  might  seem  to  be  the 
operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  owing  in  part  to  this  reason — a  lan- 
guage so  elevated  could  not  have  been  adapted  to  men  with  such 
little  cultivation  as  the  disciples  of  Jesus,  and  in  part  to  the  contents  of 
what  was  uttered,  a  lofty  commendation  of  the  works  of  God.  Ols- 
hausen3  assumes  several  stages  in  the  gift,  according  to  the  degree  of 
one's  moral  powers,  and  of  the  participation  in  other  gifts.  Thus 
the  speaking  with  tongues  was  always  an  ecstasy  ;  but  like  somnam- 
bulism it  passed  over  to  the  utterance  of  a  foreign  language,  only 
when  persons  were  present  who  were  skilled  in  the  language  ;  at  the 
Pentecost  such  was  actually  the  fact,  even  to  the  highest  degree. 
To  the  gift  of  tongues  there  was  also  added  the  interpretation  of 
them  and  prophecy.  On  the  contrary,  in  respect  to  Corinth4  he 
inclines  strongly  to  the  side  of  Eichhorn's  hypothesis  of  an  inar- 
ticulate sound.  Billroth  seeks  to  avoid  the  difficulties  which  rise 
against  the  various  modes  of  interpretation  by  4  going  a  step  beyond 
Olshausen.'5  He  explains  it  as  "  a  speaking  in  a  language  which, 
in  a  certain  degree,  comprehended  the  elements  of  the  various 
actually  historical  tongues."    On  the  contrary,  Baur,  Steudel  and 

1  This  besides  could  have  been  no  abiding  possession. 

2  Herein  resembling  the  Greek  /butvzig. 

3  Olshausen  I.  545,  546,  11.  568  seq.         4  II.  575,  576. 
5  Billroth's  Comm.  on  Corinth,  pp.  177,  178. 


102 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


Neander  recognize  nothing  but  the  vernacular  tongue.  They  see 
nothing  miraculous ;  they  find  in  it  merely  that  which  was  pro- 
duced or  enlivened  by  the  Spirit,  that  which  was  never  before 
perceived  in  this  manner,  so  far  new  that  it  uttered,  as  it  were,  with  a 
new  tongue — the  organ  of  the  Spirit — words  concerning  the  mighty 
works  of  God,  but  which,  in  its  nature  as  consisting  in  praise  of  God, 
had  been  long  known  in  the  inward  experience  of  all  the  hearers, 
Jews  and  proselytes.  As  allied  to  the  feelings  which  it  had  long  be- 
fore cherished,  its  experience  might  be  native  or  natural. 

Objections  against  the  Theory  of  Foreign  Tongues. 

In  respect  to  the  argument  adduced  by  Bleek  against  the  supposi- 
tion of  foreign  languages  at  the  Pentecost,  it  cannot  be  denied,  to  be 
sure,  that  the  narrative  of  Luke  places  the*  commencement  of  speak- 
ing with  tongues  at  a  time  before  the  multitude  of  strangers  had 
assembled,  and  Olshausen's  supposition  to  the  contrary,  L  542, 
does  not  agree  with  the  meaning  of  the  words  in  the  passage.  That 
such  speaking  might  appear  aimless  to  us  is  readily  conceded,  but  to 
the  consequence  deduced  from  it,  that  it  could  not  therefore  have 
happened,  we  dare  not  assent ;  because,  by  the  same  argument,  we 
should  not  only  make  improbable  many  other  narratives  of  the  New 
Testament,  but  we  should  certainly  occupy  a  false  position,  in  de- 
siring to  construe  a  fact  according  to  our  own  peculiar  views,  forget- 
ting that  very  many  things  might  have  actually  occurred,  of  which 
we  not  only  cannot  see  the  design,  but  might  show  even  that  they 
had  no  object,  without,  as  a  consequence,  drawing  the  conclusion 
that  they  had  no  existence.  The  imputation  of  drunkenness  might 
have  occurred  to  evil  disposed  or  frivolous  minds  just  as  well  if  each 
individual  spoke  a  particular  language,  which  was  not  vernacular  to 
him,  as  if  they  all  spoke  in  different  dialects ;  but  it  is  very  well 
known  that  nearly  all  drunken  persons — even  the  better  educated — 
in  this  situation  are  wont  to  fall  upon  speaking  in  a  foreign  language. 
That  Peter  in  his  discourse  did  not  revert  at  all  to  the  tongues  is, 
moreover,  no  sufficient  objection,  because  in  the  first  place  we  cer- 
tainly do  not  possess  the  speeches  of  the  apostle  in  their  original 
form  and  perfection,1  but  only  what  Luke  found  in  his  authorities,  or 

1  Who  could  have  marked  at  such  a  moment,  or  have  indicated  in  the 
least,  what  the  man  did  say  ? 


SFEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


103 


regarded  probable,  either  from  tradition,  or  from  his  own  reflections.1 
Secondly,  Peter  had  no  reason  whatever  to  do  any  thing  more  than 
to  show  that  the  prophecy  of  Joel  was  fulfilled  in  the  fact  which  now 
lay  notoriously  before  the  eyes  and  ears  of  all.  Since  this  con- 
tained nothing  in  respect  to  speaking  with  tongues,  (and  in  the  first 
moment  no  one  certainly  would  think  whether  it  differed  from  pro- 
phesying, and  if  so,  how  far),  Peter  would  therefore  naturally  con- 
clude that  the  gift  of  tongues  was  contained  in  that  of  prophesying, 
and  would  satisfy  his  hearers,  while  he  taught  that  it  was  to  be  de- 
rived from  the  Spirit  just  poured  out.  How  little  weight  in  general 
is  to  be  attributed  to  the  foregoing  arguments  may  be  seen  from  the 
fact,  that  Bleek  himself,  in  conclusion,  gives  up  one  half  the  objec- 
tion. He  remarks  that  the  history  seems  strongly  to  point  to  foreign 
tongues,  and  that  his  resort  to  a  traditional  change  of  the  original 
fact  rests  on  the  assumption2  which  Baur  still  maintains  as  unan- 
swerable. In  the  mean  time,  so  much  that  is  excellent  has  been 
said  against  this  theory  by  Steudel3  and  Baumlein,4  that  we  may  here 

1  [These  various  hypotheses  in  respect  to  Luke  are  without  foundation. 
No  one,  perhaps,  among  the  primitive  Christians,  with  the  exception  of  the 
twelve  apostles,  enjoyed  better  opportunities  for  becoming  personally  and 
familiarly  acquainted  with  the  events  which  he  has  recorded  or  the  persons 
whom  he  has  described.  Eusebius  relates  that  his  birth-place  was  Antioch 
in  Syria.  If  so  he  must  have  had  good  advantages  for  intercourse  with 
Palestine  Christians  and  with  the  heads  of  the  infant  church  in  Jerusalem. 
In  accompanying  Paul,  he  must  have  had  abundant  facilities  for  becoming 
acquainted  with  the  men  who  had  personally  known  our  Lord,  particularly 
the  apostles.  A  number  of  individuals  are  mentioned  by  Paul  1  who  were 
in  Christ'  before  himself,  and  whom  Luke  must  probably  have  known.  For 
example  Andronicus  and  Junias  are  alluded  to,  Rom.  1 6:  7,  and  Rufus,  v.  13, 
who  is  supposed  to  be  the  son  of  Simon  of  Cyrene,  who  bore  the  cross  of 
Jesus.  There  were  also  persons  like  Barnabas  and  Mark,  whom  Luke 
might  have  seen  on  their  missionary  journies.  Plow  often  must  he  have 
heard  the  conversations  of  Paul  with  various  individuals,  when  the  facts  in 
regard  to  the  original  history  of  Christianity  were  brought  out?  How  must 
the  discourses  and  the  reasonings  of  the  apostle  to  the  gentiles  with  Jews  and 
with  pagans  have  served  to  make  Luke  acquainted  with  the  christian  his- 
tory ?  Luke  was  with  Paul  in  Jerusalem,  when  the  elders  of  the  church 
were  assembled.  He  was  also  with  him  at  the  time  of  his  imprisonment  at 
Caesarea  and  Rome.  See  some  excellent  remarks  on  this  subject  in  Tho- 
luck's  Credibility  of  the  Evangelical  History  in  the  Reply  to  Strauss,  2d 
Ed.,  Hamburg,  1838,  p.  148.— Tr.] 

3  This  has  been  previously  mentioned.       3  P.  135  seq.       4  P.  6(3  seq. 


104 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


well  pass  it  over.  We  will  now  advert  to  the  most  recent  exposi- 
tions. In  respect  to  the  history  of  the  Pentecost,  it  has  been  re- 
marked by  Olshausen  and  Baur,  in  opposition  to  Bleek,  that  the 
words  ict'gaig  yXcooauig  as  explained  by  him  would  be  unfitting 
and  pleonastic ;  that  we  cannot  imagine  how  a  phenomenon,  such 
as  Bleek  supposes,  could  have  been  burdened  with  the  name  ykwo- 
actig  Xalsh  ;  that  it  is  inconceivable  how  a  discourse,  be  it  ever  so 
short,  could  be  put  together  in  mere  glosses  (in  Bleek's  sense).  Be- 
sides, one  would  not  name  it  from  an  unessential  appendage,  but 
from  its  peculiar,  essential  character,  whether  that  character  is  ex- 
pressed by  the  words, 1  to  speak  in  an  ecstasy,'  or  f  in  the  Spirit.'1 
Though  glosses  may  have  been  used  by  the  poets  in  the  sense  in 
question,  yet  it  cannot  be  proved,  nor  is  it  probable,  that  a  poetically 
enlivened  discourse  would  acquire  a  name  from  this  single  element 
alone,  when  its  character  was  formed  by  many  other  things.  Thus 
no  result  can  be  obtained  from  all  which  Bleek  has  brought  forward 
on  the  phrase.  The  view  maintained  by  him  in  respect  to  the  his- 
tory of  the  Pentecost,  neither  is  established,  nor  can  be.2  How  is 
it  credible  that  a  mingling  of  this  antiquated,  provincial,  or  even  po- 
etical style  or  mode  of  expression  could  have  appeared  so  remarka- 
ble to  any  body  that  he  would  name  the  whole  phenomenon  merely 
in  accordance  with  such  a  style  or  manner ;  or  that  he  could  look 
upon  this  as  a  proof  of  the  distinguished  control  of  a  higher  power, 
or  a  '  sign'3  for  the  unbelievers  ?  Less  credible  is  it,  that  the  assem- 
bled multitude,  on  account  of  such  expressions  as  this  theory  sup- 
poses, which  possibly  some  understood  in  one  way,  others  in  ano- 
ther, should  have  exclaimed, 4  and  now  hear  we  every  man  in  our 
own  tongue  wherein  we  were  born,' — and  '  we  do  hear  them  speak 
in  our  tongue  the  wonderful  works  of  God  !'  Why  should  they  have 
said  in  amazement, '  What  meaneth  this  ?'  How  can  it  be  account- 
ed for,  that  while  in  Jerusalem  all  were  believed  to  understand  what 
was  uttered  by  means  of  these  very  expressions,  at  Corinth  for  the 
same  reason,  Paul  would  represent  this  entire  mode  of  speaking  as 
absolutely  incapable  of  being  understood  ?  Allow  as  we  may  that 
single  expressions  might  remain  not  understood,  still  this  cannot  take 
away  the  impression  of  the  whole.  And  must  not  the  prophetic  dis- 
course also,  if  it  approximate  in  the  least  degree  to  the  style  of  the 


1  iv  ixarctau  or  iv  nvsvfMtri,  XaXttv.    See  Olshausen  I.  541 , 543,  544. 

2  Baur,  87 — 89.  3  otjfiatov. 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


105 


ancient  prophets,  have  contained  very  much  which  was  not  under- 
stood by  all,  and  thus  glosses  would  be  attached  to  it  also?  And 
how  could  there  have  been  a  particular  gift,  charisma,  connected 
therewith  in  order  to  explain  and  illustrate  such  expressions  ;  or  how 
could  the  apostles  have  recommended  silent  communion  with  God  to 
those  who  thus  spoke  ;  and  how  could  they  have  regarded  it  as  so 
edifying  for  the  speaker?  In  short,  the  more  one  looks  into  all  those 
things  which  have  been  said  in  relation  to  this  gift,  the  less  is  the 
probability,  I  venture  to  say,  that  he  will  find  the  essence  of  the  thing 
to  consist  in  this  alone. 

Against  Olshausen's  supposition  of  various  gradations,  or  stages 
in  the  gift,  etc.,  a  main  argument,  as  I  think,  is,  that  it  rests  on  no 
historical  grounds.  I  will  not  examine  whether  such  a  confused  in- 
termixture of  the  elements  of  all  tongues,  as  Billroth's  motley  lan- 
guage implies,  can  be  anywhere  called  a  Xoyog  and  furnish  any  sense 
whatever ;  or  even  how  far  it  might  serve  for  edification.  That, 
however,  which  must  avail  here,  as  well  as  in  regard  to  Bleek's 
view,  is,  that  such  a  discourse  could  not  have  appeared  capable  of 
being  understood  by  the  multitude  in  Jerusalem.  The  reverse  must 
have  been  the  fact  to  all  without  exception.  It  would  be  a  mere 
confused  pell-mell,  with  random  human  voices.  Equal  difficulties 
arise  against  the  view  of  Baur,  Steudel  and  Neander,  with  whom 
Baumlein  has  to  do,  particularly  in  the  controversial  parts  of  his  trea- 
tise. If  the  speaking  with  tongues  was  in  truth  only  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Spirit  in  the  consciousness  of  Christians,  then  we  can- 
not conceive  why  the  words  of  Jesus,  the  first  sermon  of  Peter,  Acts 
II,  and  the  epistles  of  Paul,  in  all  which  still  the  christian  spirit  may 
be  expressed,  must  not  also  be  regarded  as  indicating  the  gift  of 
tongues,  (as  this  is  placed  in  contradistinction  to  prophecy),  and  how 
this  kind  of  speaking  can  be  explained  as  absolutely  unintelligible  ? 
It  must  appear  remarkable  that  the  view  of  Baur  is  not  strictly  ap- 
plicable to  the  two  main  passages,  Acts  II,  and  1  Cor.  XIV.  Why, 
moreover,  should  Luke  have  had  in  the  first  narrative  a  different 
conception  of  the  subject  from  that  in  the  last  two  passages  where 
he  mentions  it  ?  But  if  Steudel  deduces  the  unintelligibleness  of  the 
tongues  in  Corinth  from  the  want  of  susceptible  feelings  in  the  church 
there,  still  a  highly  animated  manner  of  presentation  is  always  that 
which  of  itself  makes  the  deepest  impression  on  feelings  little  sus- 
14 


« 


106 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


ceptible.1  Besides,  Paul  would  not,  if  he  had  so  understood  it,  have 
checked  those  who  spoke  with  tongues,  but  he  would  have  censured 
the  want  of  susceptibility  in  the  hearers.  It  remains  not  less  inex- 
plicable, how  an  animated  discourse,  declaring  the  works  of  God 
through  Christ,  could  have  had  a  definite  import  in  the  view  of 
strangers,  the  sounds  of  which  did  not  die  away  within  them  for  a 
long  time,  while  the  same  thing  to  the  church  at  Corinth,  (christian- 
ized years  before),  and  presented  in  their  native  language,  must  have 
been  in  its  very  nature  unintelligible  and  unedifying.  This  and  se- 
veral other  things,  which  cannot  be  here  repeated,  lead  us  to  the 
conclusion,  that  the  history  of  the  Pentecost  allows  of  no  other  inter- 
pretation, than  that  of  a  discourse  of  the  disciples  in  the  languages  of 
the  tribes  to  which  their  hearers  belonged.  To  us  such  a  phenome- 
non may  be  inconceivable ;  to  us  it  may  be  without  aim ;  we  may 
think  it  improbable  and  even  incredible.  All  this  can  have,  it  ought 
to  have,  no  influence  on  our  interpretation,  where  the  words  are  so 
clear,  and  while  all  the  other  modes  of  explication  are  involved  in  a 
multitude  of  difficulties.  Luke,  therefore,  understands  in  Acts  II., 
under  hegiug  yXojaaaig,  a  discourse  in  a  language  other  than  the  ver- 
nacular ;  so  he  does  likewise  in  the  two  other  passages  under  ylwoaaig. 
This  also  one  will  be  most  inclined  to  recognize  in  Mark  16:  17.  Of 
glosses  in  Bleek's  sense  one  can  hardly  think,  when  he  reflects  that 
this  phenomenon  comes  in  as  a  ar}[xt"iov  in  the  series,  along  with  cast- 
ing out  devils,  taking  up  serpents  without  being  injured,  etc.  It  is 
here  almost  inconceivable,  that  a  discourse  in  a  lofty  poetical  dic- 
tion could  be  added  as  mere  glosses  to  the  others — (a  pleonasm  being 
unsuitable) — and  where  hardly  a  contradiction  can  be  thought  of, 
which  might  seem  to  lie  in  the  word  xawaig.  It  is  very  evident  also 
that  by  this  word  we  are  not  compelled  to  understand  an  absolutely 
new  language.2 


View  of  the  Passage  in  Corinthians. 

After  this  digression,  we  return  to  the  passage  in  Corinthians. 
Since  we  cannot  recognize  Bleek's  theory  of  glosses,  there  seems  to 
remain,  as  possible,  but  one  of  the  causes  of  the  unintelligibleness  of 

1  Prophecy  also,  on  this  supposition,  would  be  as  little  useful. 

2  Comp.  Baumlein  pp.  63 — 66. 


SrEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


107 


this  subject  mentioned  above,  on  p.  98.  This  is,  foreign  languages. 
We  will,  therefore,  recur  to  the  particulars  contained  in  this  pas- 
sage, in  order  to  ascertain,  not  so  much  whether  any  thing  deci- 
sive in  favor  of  such  a  view  can  be  found  there,  (for  this  cannot  be 
done),  as  whether  there  is  any  insuperable  objection  against  it. 
The  twelfth  and  thirteenth  chapters  include  nothing  of  this  nature. 
The  4  kinds  of  tongues,'1  mentioned  in  Ch.  12:  10,  28,  may  he  the 
different  languages,  that  is,  the  various  tongues — ability  to  use  these 
languages  being  conferred  on  believers  by  the  Spirit, 1  who  worketh 
all  things.'  The  4  tongues,'2  Ch.  13:  1,  are  literally  1  speech,' 
*  words,'  while  Paul,  to  be  sure,  here  refers  to  the  gift,  charisma, 
and  from  the  reference  certainly  selects  this  example,  yet  he  says 
nothing  of  the  languages  themselves.  From  the  identity  of  the 
word  employed  therefore,  nothing  follows  in  respect  to  the  identity 
of  the  thing,  provided  the  term  yXwaaa  does  not  in  every  case,  as 
used  by  him,  necessarily  mean  a  language.  In  verse  8,  where  he 
places  ylbjuaa  along  with  ngocprjisla  and  yvaaig,  he  has  perhaps  in 
his  mind  merely  the  idea  of  a  gift,  charisma.  Nothing,  therefore, 
could  be  inferred  from  the  passage  in  itself.  Yet  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted, that  by  the  undoubted  reference  to  the  first  verse,  it  would  be 
the  most  natural  to  understand  the  yXwwa  as  referring  to  languages. 
We  now  come  to  the  fourteenth  chapter,  which  is  the  principal  pas- 
sage. Here  the  use  of  the  singular  yXbjo-aa,  is  employed  by  the  oppo- 
nents as  an  objection  to  the  theory  of  different  tongues.3  An  im- 
plied conjecture  of  the  words  srspa  and  xaivrj  might  indeed  have  lit- 
tle in  its  favor.4  Such  a  conjecture,  however,  is  not  necessary.  It 
will  be  sufficient  that  yXcoaaa  means  only  '  language,'  '  speech.'  If 
then  the  expression  yXwvcraig  XaXuv  was  used  in  order  to  indicate 
briefly,5  and  intelligibly  for  contemporaries,  a  discourse  in  a  lan- 
guage which  was  conferred  by  the  Spirit,6  then  the  singular  number 
might  be  employed  without  objection.  In  that  case  yXaxivr]  XaXeiv 
would  mean,  4  to  speak  in  a  language  by  which  all,  who  were  ac- 

1  yivr)  yXojooojv.       2  yXutoocu.       3  Bleek,  I.  15.       4  Bleek,  11.  51. 

5  This  is  the  single  aim  of  language.  Hence  in  the  construction  of  par- 
ticular forms  of  expression  for  the  purpose  of  indicating  the  phenomena  in 
the  subject  in  question,  the  process  is  far  less  laborious  than  in  the  often  er- 
roneous language  of  verbal  criticism,  which  subsequently  assumes  the  task 
of  interpretation. 

6  The  foreign  quality  of  it  was  neither  the  only  nor  the  principal  mark. 


108 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


quainted  with  the  subject,  would  be  reminded  of  one  of  those  gifts 
which  were  communicated  by  the  Spirit,  without  troubling  himself 
to  investigate  further.  At  the  same  time,  no  one  spoke  except  in  a 
particular  language.  In  the  same  manner  ylwuaav  verse  26, 
means,  4  he  had  a  language,'  to  wit,  one  conferred  by  the  Spirit,  as 
all  the  other  things  there  mentioned  are  gifts  of  the  Spirit.  He  is  in 
possession  of  one  of  those  languages  which  the  Spirit  communicates ; 
consequently  he  has  the  ability  to  speak  in  it.  On  the  philological 
side  I  therefore  see  no  difficulty. 

A  second  argument,  namely,  that  Paul  could  not  have  said  ovdug 
axovei,  verse  2,  when  in  a  city  like  Corinth  there  must  always  have 
been  at  least  some  persons  who  would  have  understood  foreign  lan- 
guages, has  no  weight  with  me,  because,  first,  the  fact  itself  is  very 
doubtful,  and,  secondly,  if  it  were  so,  these  were  only  exceptions, 
rare  exceptions,  which  Paul  in  an  altogether  general  consideration  of 
the  thing  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  bring  into  the  account.  The 
Greek  conceitedness  at  that  time  allowed  the  people  to  acquire  the 
languages  of  barbarians,  as  little  as  in  our  days  many  nations,  not- 
withstanding all  the  intercourse  with  us  Germans,  allow  themselves 
to  learn  our  language.  The  Greek  demanded  that  foreigners 
should  study  his  tongue  ;  he  could  the  more  easily  require  this,  as 
his  master,  the  Roman,  adapted  himself  to  it,  and  in  the  unbounded 
extension  of  this  language,  he  could  not  well  come  to  any  place 
where  he  would  not  find  colonists  of  his  race,  or  Hellenized  barba- 
rians. Perhaps  native  Corinthians  understood,  along  with  the  Greek, 
the  Latin  in  part,  but  certainly  not  other  languages ;  and  Paul 
needed  not  to  refer  to  anything  like  an  assembly  of  foreign  visitors  ; 
the  less  so,  as  he  did  not  consider  the  matter  so  much  according  to 
its  aspects  in  Corinth,  as  in  its  general  features,  wherever  it  existed. 

A  third  argument  is  deduced  from  the  fact  that  he  who  spoke 
with  tongues  could  not  always  interpret  what  he  spoke.1  This  is  in- 
deed remarkable,  especially  if  we  suppose  that  the  individual  was  not 
in  an  unconscious,  but  in  a  conscious  state  ;  as  we  certainly  believe 
that  he  must  have  been.  One  cannot  conceive  how  a  man  could 
speak  in  a  foreign  tongue,  and  so  speak  as  that  he  himself  was 
edified  thereby,  and  still  be  unable  to  interpret  to  others  what  was 
uttered.  But  not  only  can  the  inconceivableness  of  itself  alone  be 
no  ground   for  denial,  least  of  all  in  a  matter  where  personal 


1  Bleek  I.  23. 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


109 


observation  and  experience  wholly  fail  us,  but  this  same  difficulty 
remains,  and  as  I  think,  in  a  higher  degree,  in  the  other  modes  of 
explanation  attempted  in  very  recent  times ;  therefore  it  is  not  more 
decisive  against  one  of  these  theories  than  it  is  against  the  others. 

In  the  fourth  place,  it  is  said,  that  were  these  ylaaaai  foreign  lan- 
guages, then  Paul  ought  rather  to  have  framed  his  admonition1  so 
that  these  persons  should  have  abstained  altogether,  when  they 
would  speak  before  a  congregation,  which  did  not  understand  them  ; 
and  if  an  interpretation  intervened,  no  essential  advantage  could  be 
derived.  Besides,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  have  used  it  in 
intercourse  with  others  who  spoke  with  tongues.2  But  here  it  is 
forgotten  that  Paul  does  not  in  the  least  demand  the  speaking  by 
tongues,  but  only  permits  it,  since  as  a  gift  of  the  Spirit  he  may  not 
check  it ;  he  may  also  assume  that  the  one  who  spoke  with  tongues 
always  had  control  over  the  gift,  and  in  such  a  degree,  that  he  could 
use  it  for  the  instruction  of  foreign  nations ;  yet  this  nowhere  fol- 
lows from  the  statement  of  the  apostle,  neither  does  it  accord  with 
the  history.  The  power  of  speaking  with  tongues  seems  not  to  have 
been  an  abiding  one  at  all ;  it  was  a  vrjfiuov,  it  came  in  suddenly, 
and  left  its  possessor  again,  when  the  high,  ecstatic  feeling  which  it 
produced  passed  away.  To  this  we  may  add,  what  has  been  said  on 
the  nature  of  the  words  uttered,  that  it  was  not  a  didactic  statement, 
but  an  out-pouring  of  the  heart,  and  hence  Paul  could  have  given  no 
other  precept  respecting  it,  than  that  which  he  has  given,  if  he  did 
not  wish  to  check  the  thing  altogether. 

Another  objection  is  the  one  raised  by  me  in  the  Commentary  on 
Ch.  14:  18,  28,3  that  we  cannot  conceive  what  connection  foreign 
languages  had  with  silent  intercourse  with  God  ;  how  Paul  could 
have  used  them  for  this  purpose,  or  admonished  others  in  relation 
thereto.  I  still  have  the  same  difficulty,  and  had  we  knowledge  of 
the  yXwaoai  only  from  his  letters,  then  I  should  possibly  attribute 
some  weight  to  the  argument ;  now  I  cannot  do  it ;  besides,  what 
seems  to  be  unfitting  to  me  is  not  necessarily  so  to  others.  Still  it  is 
possible  that  Paul,  (who  regarded  the  phenomenon  as  the  effect  of 
the  operation  of  the  Divine  Spirit),  as  well  as  the  historian  of  the 
Pentecost,  may  have  discovered,  (from  some  grounds  unknown  to 

1  1  Cor.  14:  26—28.  2  Bleek  1.  24. 

3  "  I  thank  ray  God  I  speak  with  tongues  more  than  ye  all."  "  But  if 
there  be  no  interpreter,  let  him  keep  silence,"  etc. 


110 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


us),  that  the  praising  of  God  in  foreign  languages  was  more  becom- 
ing, than  it  now  appears  to  us.  In  the  same  way  may  the  case 
stand  in  relation  to  verses  10,  12.  While  we  read  Paul's  epistles 
alone,  what  is  there  said  may  decide  us  against  the  idea  of  lan- 
guages ;  but  if  we  recollect,  that  the  occurrence  at  the  Pentecost  is 
conceivable  only  on  the  supposition  of  foreign  languages,  and  that 
we  cannot  allow  ourselves  to  lose  sight  of  the  presupposition,  that 
the  phenomenon  with  which  Paul  had  to  do,  was  essentially  like  the 
one  which  first  comes  before  us  in  the  Acts,  then  we  may  indeed 
wonder  how  he  could  have  expressed  himself  as  he  has  done  in  the 
Epistle ;  but  though  it  is  not  impossible  that  he  has  committed  a 
logical  fault,  we  do  not  believe  ourselves  called  upon  to  overthrow 
everything  which  we  have  elsewhere  recognized,  until  we  have 
evidence  that  he  is  guilty  of  such  a  fault.  It  therefore  follows,  that 
the  passage  in  the  Corinthians  contains  nothing,  which  makes  it 
absolutely  impossible  to  understand  the  gift  of  tongues  as  a  power, 
in  particular  moments  of  high  inspiration,  to  praise  God  in  languages 
which  one  had  never  before  learned. 


Conclusion. 

What  now  is  the  result  ?  In  my  opinion  it  is  this.  All  which  we 
have  above  ascertained,  pp.  93-7,  on  the  nature  of  the  myster  ious  gift, 
remains  untouched.  Hence  it  is  not  needful  that  it  should  be  re- 
peated. In  respect  to  the  unintelligibleness  of  its  form  we  cannot 
come  to  perfect  certainty ;  still  from  the  notices  which  the  history 
of  the  Pentecost  supplies,  a  strong  probability  arises  in  favor  of  the 
theory  of  foreign  languages;  the  observations  also,  which  Paul 
makes  in  our  Epistle  in  relation  to  it,  in  part  easily  fall  in  with  this 
supposition,  and  in  part  do  not  stand  in  such  opposition  as  to  compel 
us  in  consequence  to  give  up  what,  from  the  narration  of  the  first 
introduction  of  the  gift,  appears  to  follow  inevitably.  Therefore, 
without  being  able  to  say,  that  we  know  the  precise  circumstances  of 
the  case,  we  have  still  arrived  at  so  much  as  this,  we  know  to  what 
conclusion  the  single  authorities  which  we  have  at  our  command 
will  lead  us  ;  and  at  that  point,  I  believe,  we  must  stop,  while  all  the 
advance  which  we  might  make  would  remove  us  from  that  position 
which  we  regard  as  the  only  possible  one  for  such  an  investigation. 
At  this  point  we  therefore  stop. 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


Ill 


[Ruckert  frequently  refers,  in  the  preceding  article,  to  his  Com- 
mentary on  the  chapters  in  the  first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians  which 
treat  of  the  spiritual  gifts.  We  here  subjoin  one  or  two  extracts 
from  his  Commentary.  They  will  serve  for  an  outline  of  the 
apostle's  course  of  thought.  On  Chap.  XII,  Ruckert  remarks  : 
"  Paul  speaks  of  things  which  were  then  perfectly  well  known. 
He  addressed  the  persons  among  whom  these  things  occurred.  He 
employed  expressions  which  were  in  every-day  use.  His  object 
was  not  to  explain  the  nature  of  these  gifts  to  the  Corinthians,  but  to 
give  them  directions  in  respect  to  the  value  of  the  gifts.  It  was 
not  his  design  to  communicate  information  to  those  who  should  live 
in  subsequent  centuries,  but  to  check  the  abuse  of  the  gifts  at  the 
time.  Every  trace  of  the  things  which  Paul  here  handles  was  lost 
in  the  progress  of  time.  We  know  nothing  of  them  except  what 
can  be  drawn  from  the  discussion  itself,  compared  with  some  passa- 
ges in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles." 

The  thought  which  serves  as  the  basis  of  the  argument  in  Chap. 
XII  is,  "  that  everywhere  in  Christianity,  the  Divine  Spirit  is  the 
agent,  operating  as  the  cause  or  principle  of  the  Christian  life.  Paul 
then  proceeds  to  the  special  object  of  the  inquiry,  namely,  the  value 
of  the  particular  manifestations  of  the  Holy  Spirit's  agency,  and  the 
preference  which  should  be  given  to  one  or  to  another  of  the  gifts 
in  question.  Paul  thus,  indeed,  allows  that  there  is  a  diversity  in  the 
gifts,  but,  in  tracing  back  one  and  all  of  them  to  the  same  source — 
the  Spirit,  he  calls  attention  to  the  common  value  of  all,  and  points 
out  the  object  which  all  should  promote,  namely,  the  general  good 
of  the  Christian  body." 

"  The  13th  Chapter  is  a  delineation  of  the  4  more  excellent  way,' 
or  an  illustration  of  the  fact,  that  love  is  that  one  among  the  graces 
of  the  Christian,  without  which  no  gift,  no  virtue  has  any  real  value. 
Love  is  the  best  and  noblest  of  all  the  graces,  the  fountain  of  all 
true  virtue.    It  shall  remain  when  all  other  gifts  shall  fail." 

Riickert  thus  sums  up  Chap.  XIV.  The  gifts  of  the  Spirit  are 
various  ;  yet  the  God  who  bestows  them  is  but  one,  and  the  design 
of  all  is  the  common  good.  While  the  body  of  man  has  many  mem- 
bers, there  is  yet  but  one  body.  One  member  is  not  independent  of 
another.  All  are  intended  for  one  harmonious  whole.  So  the 
Church  of  Christ  is  one  body  of  the  Lord.    All  Christians  are  mem- 


112 


SPEAKING  WITH  TONGUES. 


bers  of  this  body.  They  have  different  offices,  but  each  is  to  labor 
for  the  good  of  the  others,  and  thus  promote  the  well-being  of  the 
whole.  All  cannot  have  the  same  business ;  each  one  might,  how- 
ever, strive  after  the  highest  gifts,  but  still  there  is  a  more  excellent 
blessing — love.  Without  this,  no  gift,  no  knowledge,  no  power, 
no  virtue  even  would  be  of  any  value.  The  Corinthians  should 
rather  desire  prophecy  than  speaking  with  tongues.  The  one  who 
spoke  with  tongues  edified  himself  only,  since  no  one  could  under- 
stand him ;  the  prophet  edified  the  church.  Paul  desired  indeed 
that  all  might  enjoy  the  gift  of  tongues,  but  rather  that  they  should 
prophesy,  since  the  former  consisted  in  unintelligible  words,  and, 
without  interpretation,  was  useless,  etc. 

In  addition  to  the  authors,  before  mentioned,  who  have  written  on 
the  Gift  of  Tongues,  we  may  name  Baur  and  Steudel  in  the  Tubin- 
gen Zeitschrift,  1830 ;  and  Baumlein,  in  Klaiber's  Stud,  der  Evang. 
Geistlichkeit  Wiirtemb.  VI.  No.  2.  1834— Tr.] 


SPECIMENS  OF  THE  SERMONS 

OK 

DR.  A.  THOLUCK, 


15 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


SERMON  1.2 

THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANS  TO  THE  LAW. 

If  we  institute  a  comparison  between  the  form  which  piety  assumes 
in  our  own  time,  and  that  which  it  assumed  in  the  time  of  our  fore- 
fathers, we  shall  find  that  a  prominent  distinction  between  the  two 
is  the  following :  the  piety  of  our  forefathers  was  connected  in  a 
high  degree  with  an  external  discipline  in  religious  duties,  while 
piety  with  us  is  dependent  upon  this  discipline  no  further  than  the 
feelings  of  any  one  may  more  or  less  incline  him  to  make  it  so. 
Our  fathers  were  stimulated  by  faith  in  these  words  of  the  apostle, — 
1  God  will  have  all  men  to  be  saved,  and  come  to  the  knowledge  of 
the  truth  ;'  and  they  demanded  therefore  of  every  one,  that  he  pray 
4  with  fear  and  trembling,'  that  he  seek,  that  he  knock,  until  the 
door  be  opened,  until  Christ  come  and  keep  the  sacramental  feast 
with  his  soul.  We,  on  the  contrary,  seem  to  be  often  influenced  by 
an  impression,  that  the  language  of  the  apostle,  '  all  men  have  not 
faith,'  has  no  other  meaning  than  this,— in  order  to  have  faith  men 
must  be  inwardly  organized  as  it  is  called,  in  an  appointed  way. 
And  accordingly  we  see,  that  the  one  class  of  believers  displayed,  in 
their  life,  a  fertile  power  of  faith,  and  brought  forth  much  fair 
fruit ;  while  the  other  class  remain  dry  and  unfruitful  trees.  Our 
fathers  however  found  a  great  part  of  their  guilt  to  consist  in  the 
fact,  that  the  discipline  of  the  law  did  not  control,  with  sufficient 
power,  their  internal  christian  character.  If  now  we  take  notice 
that  Christians  of  modern  days  are  speaking  constantly  and  ex- 
clusively of  Freedom,  of  Spirit,  of  the  Children  of  God,  but  very 
seldom  of  the  Discipline  of  Lmv,  of  Self-denial,  and  the  true  idea  of 

1  See  Note  A,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 

2  An  Analysis  of  each  sermon  is  given  in  the  notes.  For  an  analysis  of 
this,  see  Note  B,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


116 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


the  word  Servant  of  God ;  we  shall  regard  it  as  a  profitable  exer- 
cise, to  examine  the  question,  what  is  the  true  idea  of  the  outward 
disciplinary  influence  of  law  upon  the  inward  christian  character. 
A  comprehensive  and  profound  explanation  of  the  subject  we  find  in 
the  expression  of  our  Lord,  Mark  2:  27,  28.  "  And  he  said  unto 
them,  the  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath. 
Therefore  the  Son  of  man  is  Lord  also  of  the  Sabbath  day." 

There  is  something  enigmatical  in  these  words,  and  yet  their 
meaning  may  be  easily  discovered.  That  the  Saviour  permitted  his 
disciples  to  pluck  the  ears  of  corn  on  the  Sabbath,  and  thus  to  break 
the  law  of  a  rigid  observance  of  the  day,  has  been  a  stumbling  stone 
to  theologians.1  By  this  act  the  Lord  shows  what  is  the  binding 
force  of  an  external,  and  especially  a  ceremonial  law.  Man,  he 
says,  was  not  made  for  the  Sabbath  ;  that  is,  the  end  of  man's  ex- 
istence is  not  attained  by  the  observance  of  the  ceremonial  law,  the 
end  of  his  existence  is  life  in  God  ;  instead  of  man's  being  made  for 
the  Sabbath,  the  Sabbath  was  made  for  him,  that  is,  such  external 
ordinances  as  the  Sabbath,  are  instituted  only  for  the  purpose  of 
educating  man  ;  they  are  an  external  discipline,  designed  to  form 
him  from  without  to  that  character,  for  which  he  has  no  strength  to 
determine  himself  from  within.  The  thoughts  of  man,  created  as 
he  is  by  God,  should  habitually  come  forth  from  within,  to  fasten  on 
his  Creator.  The  flesh,  however,  is  weak  ;  Israel  must  therefore 
have  its  Sabbath  and  Christendom  its  Sunday,  so  that  by  this  out- 
ward discipline,  the  spirit  may  be  educated  to  the  same  goodness 
which  it  ought  to  work  out  from  its  inward  impulses.  And  as  these 
ceremonial  commands  and  ordinances  are  given  merely  for  the  sake 
of  man,  so  likewise  in  a  certain  sense  may  it  be  said,  that  all  the 
moral  commands  of  God,  as  far  as  they  are  mere  commands,  are 
given  for  the  same  end.  Only  while  the  Spirit  of  God  does  not  in- 
cline us  from  within  to  all  good,  are  these  commands  necessary. 
But  the  Son  of  man,  as  it  is  here  said,  is  Lord  of  the  Sabbath ;  for 
whoever  has  the  Spirit  without  measure,  as  Christ  is  represented  to 
have  had,  can  stand  in  no  need  of  a  law  educating  from  without. 

You  see,  my  worshipping  friends,  how  clearly  as  well  as  pro- 
foundly this  language  of  the  Saviour  instructs  us  in  the  application 
of  the  outward  discipline  of  law  to  faithful  Christians.  The  Son  of 
man  and  of  God  is  Lord  over  the  law,  because  he  has  the  Spirit 

1  See  Note  C.  at  the  close  of*  the  Sermons. 


DISCIPLINE  OF  LAW. 


117 


without  measure.  The  same  Spirit,  however,  will  be  given  to  his 
followers  through  faith  :  and  therefore  this  language  teaches  us,  in 
the  first  place,  that  where  the  Spirit  of  God  controls,  the  outward 
discipline  of  the  law  ceases ;  but  it  teaches  us,  with  the  same  cer- 
tainty, in  the  second  place,  that  where  the  Spirit  of  God  does  not 
yet  control,  there  the  outward  discipline  of  the  law  must  remain. 

I  say,  where  the  Spirit  of  God  controls,  there  all  outward  discipline 
of  the  law  ceases.  To  the  righteous,  says  the  apostle,  no  law  is 
given  ;  and  again,  where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty  ; 
and  still  again,  all  things  are  yours  ;  and  finally,  I  have  all  power.1 
These  are  bold,  they  are  hazardous  words.  They  are  such  words, 
as  a  fanatic  hurls,  as  he  would  a  burning  torch,  into  the  world. 
And  yet,  beloved,  we  have  long  known,  that  as  there  must  be  a  light 
to  make  a  shadow,  so  there  must  be  a  great  truth  to  correspond  with 
every  great  error;  that  the  errors,  which  we  call  effective,  only 
borrow  their  efficiency  from  a  great  truth  deformed.  It  is  undenia- 
ble, that  Christianity,  in  its  development,  aims  at  a  state,  in  which 
there  is  a  degree  of  freedom,  which  excludes  all  kind  of  restraint. 
Where  the  Spirit  of  God  controls  the  inmost  affections  with  absolute 
sway,  there,  certainly,  the  commands  of  religion  cease  to  interfere 
with  the  man's  will ;  yea,  no  commands  at  all  are  given  to  such  a 
man.  What  does  he  know  of  the  command,  Love  God  above  all 
things  else,  when  the  love  of  God  is  to  him  the  very  life  of  his  soul  ? 
What  does  he  know  of  the  command,  Love  thy  brother,  when 
brotherly  love  has  become  so  much  of  a  second  nature  to  him,  that 
he  ceases  to  breathe  when  he  ceases  to  love  ?  The  same  may  be 
said  of  all  the  commands  of  religion,  of  self-denial,  chastity,  humili- 
ty. As  it  stands  recorded  of  the  pious  man,  that  he  is  a  tree 
planted  by  the  water-brooks,  which  bringeth  forth  its  fruit  in  its 
season,  so  all  good  works,  in  their  season,  that  is,  whenever  they  are 
called  for  from  without,  are  performed  by  the  man  of  this  priestly 
spirit,  without  his  even  thinking  of  the  fact,  that  they  are  required 
by  a  command. 

Does  this  ideal  of  character,  which  I  present  before  you,  seem 
too  elevated  ?  Consider  the  manner  in  which  we,  who  have  re- 
ceived the  first  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  are  already  affected  in  reference 
to  civil  laws?    Who  is  influenced  by  the  consideration,  that  the 

1  Seel  Tim.  1:9.  2  Cor.  3:  17.  1  Cor.  3:  21.  2  Cor.  4:  15:  6.  10.  Phil.  4: 
13.  1  Cor.  0:  12,  10  :  23.-  Tr. 


118 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


civil  law  commands,  under  severe  penalties,  thou  shalt  not  steal, 
thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery.  These  commands  are  obeyed  by 
us  from  our  own  inward  impulses.  We  should  be  obliged  to  deny 
ourselves,  in  order  to  conduct  differently  from  what  the  law  re- 
quires ;  and  therefore  amid  all  the  restraints  of  command,  we  know 
ourselves  to  be  free. — Oh  how  happy  is  that  state,  when  we  do  not 
need  to  urge  ourselves  to  obey  the  law  of  God  ;  when,  as  Paul  says, 
the  Spirit  of  God  incites  the  children  of  God ;  when  it  is  no  more 
commanded  from  without,  do  this,  do  that,  forsake  this,  forsake 
that ;  when  to  do  the  will  of  the  Deity  is  the  food  of  our  souls.  He 
who  has  been  made  by  the  Divine  Spirit,  thus  inwardly  free  from  all 
law ;  how  he  stands  up,  untrammelled  amid  the  restraints  imposed 
by  all  the  relations  of  the  world,  yea  even  by  its  calamities  !  He  is 
free  when  in  chains,  free  in  the  prison,  free  under  the  pressure  of 
gnawing  disease. — It  is  the  will  of  God  which  has  selected  for  me 
the  chain,  the  prison,  the  disease  ;  and  as  my  will  is  not  discordant 
with  the  Divine,  so  under  all  these  restrictions  I  am  free.  Imagine, 
what  must  be  my  consciousness  of  king-like  elevation,  when  all  the 
events,  which  occur  to  me  as  by  necessity  from  without,  are  yet 
freely  chosen  and  determined  by  myself.  That  was  the  sentiment 
of  a  king,  with  which  the  first  Christians  went  through  the  world, 
and  with  which  Paul  cried  out,  All  things  are  yours.  Yea  truly 
where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  freedom  ;  but  where  it  is 
not,  there  discipline  is  imperiously  needed. 

And  does  this  Spirit  of  the  Lord  rule  constantly  in  us,  who  are 
believers  ?  If  Paul  speaks  of  himself  and  of  all  Christians,  as  those 
who  have  received  only  the  first  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  and  who  are 
even  yet  waiting  for  the  full  harvest ; — and  not  only  the  creature, 
he  says,  but  we  ourselves  also,  who  have  received  the  first  fruits  of 
the  Spirit,  long  within  ourselves  after  the  adoption  ;l  if  he  speaks 
thus  of  himself,  what  must  we,  in  our  poverty,  say  of  ourselves  ? 
This  we  must  say  ;  that  where  the  Spirit  of  God  does  not  control, 
there  the  external  discipline  of  the  law  must  remain.  Yea,  friends, 
so  far  as  the  Spirit  of  God  does  not  bear  the  sceptre  within  us  all, 
so  far  we  still  need  the  law.  And  particularly,  we  need  the  law,  in 
the  first  place,  as  a  representative  of  the  virtue  which  we  do  not 
possess  ;  in  the  second  place,  as  a  barrier  against  the  sin  which 


Rom.  8:  23. 


DISCIPLINE  OF  LAW. 


119 


importunes  us  ;  and  in  the  third  place,  as  a  seal  of  the  method  of 
salvation  which  we  have  chosen,  of  salvation  by  grace.1 

We  need  the  law,  as  a  representative  of  the  virtue  which  we  do 
not  possess.  The  knowledge  of  sin,  says  Paul,  comes  from  the  law, 
and  in  this  manner  we  obtain  an  idea  of  that  virtue  of  which  we  are 
destitute.  Many  proofs  may  be  given  of  the  truth  of  Christianity, 
and  of  the  divine  origin  of  the  Holy  Scriptures ;  but,  my  friends, 
I  am  not  able  to  mention  a  single  proof,  which  is  higher  and  more 
urgent  than  this, — there  is  no  book  which  unfolds,  as  the  Bible  does, 
the  secrets  of  the  human  heart.  The  mysteries  of  God  are  great  in 
the  height  to  which  the  Bible  has  carried  us  ;  but  truly  the  mysteries 
of  the  human  heart,  in  the  depth  to  which  the  Bible  has  carried  us, 
are  equally  great ;  and  in  proportion  as  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  does 
not  rule  in  our  affections,  we  must  be  educated,  all  the  days  of  our 
life,  in  this  school  of  self-knowledge.  Paul  was  far  advanced  in  the 
knowledge  of  himself,  and  yet  he  felt  obliged  to  utter  the  memorable 
remark, — 1  It  is  to  me  a  small  thing,  that  I  should  be  judged  before  a 
human  tribunal;  I  even  judge  not  mine  own  self:  lam  conscious 
of  nothing  amiss,  but  by  this  pure  consciousness  I  am  not  justified  ; 
it  is  the  Lord  who  judgeth  me.'2  If  you  would  perceive,  my  friends, 
how  far  you  have  advanced  in  the  knowledge  of  yourselves,  then 
answer  the  question, — can  you  repeat,  in  sincere  self-application, 
these  words  of  the  apostle  ?  Are  you  actually  persuaded,  that  if 
you  were  conscious  of  having  committed  no  sin  at  all,  still  you 
would  not  be  thereby  justified  ?  If  you  can  and  must  acknowledge 
this,  then  you  need  a  mirror,  which  may  show  you  the  virtue  which 
is  wanting  ;  you  need  the  mirror  of  the  divine  law. 

To  be  particular,  I  understand  here  by  the  term  law,  not  merely 
the  laws  of  the  Old  Testament,  but  every  thing  which  stands  re- 
corded in  the  Scriptures,  so  far  as  we  consider  it  as  a  command, 
from  which  may  be  learned  the  claims  of  God.  Thus  the  narrations 
of  the  Old  Testament,  in  which  God  contends  with  his  people,  be- 
cause they  were  continually  forsaking  the  fountain  of  life,  and 
becoming  idolaters,  are  a  mirror  of  the  law,  a  constant  proclamation 
to  the  heart  of  man, — '  Thou  shalt  have  no  other  Gods  besides  me.' 
So  the  whole  history  of  Jesus  Christ  is  a  proclamation  to  the  heart  of 

I  Salvation  is  here  used  in  its  wide  sense,  as  exemption  from  punishment 
hereafter,  and  from  its  precursors  here. — Tr. 

I I  Cor.  4:  2,  3.    See  Calvin  on  the  passage.  Vol.  I.  P.  257.— Tr. 


\20 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


man, — 1  Whoever  says,  that  he  abides  in  Christ,  let  him  walk  even 
as  Christ  has  walked.'  So  the  whole  history  of  Paul  is  a  continued 
proclamation, — 1  Be  ye  followers  of  me,  even  as  I  am  of  Christ.'  The 
preaching  too  of  all  the  witnesses  of  the  Gospel,  those  mentioned  in 
the  Scripture,  and  those  out  of  it,  are  a  continued  exhortation, — 
4  Wherefore  let  us  also,  since  we  are  surrounded  with  such  a  crowd 
of  witnesses,  lay  aside  the  sin  which  retards  our  spiritual  progress, 
and  makes  us  always  sluggish.'  'For,'  says  the  same  apostle,  1  all 
Scripture,  given  by  God,  is  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for 
reformation,  for  instruction  in  righteousness,  that  the  man  of  God 
may  be  perfect,  made  ready  for  every  good  work.'  Ye  who  are 
sincere  and  earnest  in  your  profession  of  religion,  do  ye  daily  hold 
before  your  eyes  this  mirror  of  God's  claim  upon  us  ?  Again,  and 
yet  again  have  I  pointed  you  to  the  law  ;  and  has  even  one,  here 
and  there,  actually  reduced  it  to  practice  ?  I  hope  in  God  it  is  so  ; 
and  yet  there  have  been  very  few  seasons,  when  the  preached  Gos- 
pel has  so  easily  found  applause,  but  so  hardly  found  obedience. 
Ah,  after  what  do  many  preachers  of  the  word  themselves  inquire 
and  seek?  Instead  of  inquiring,  whether  the  preached  word  be 
obeyed,  do  they  not  seek  after  the  miserable  approbation  of  their 
fellow  men  ? — The  cause  of  this  disobedience  to  the  preached  Gos- 
pel, is  the  fact,  that  we,  the  Christians  of  this  time,  give  way  too 
much  to  our  evil  propensities.  And  from  the  very  fact,  that  we  too 
freely  surrender  ourselves  to  sinful  impulse,  arises  our  need  of  the 
discipline  of  law. 

Secondly,  where  the  Spirit  of  God  does  not  bear  sway,  we  need 
the  external  discipline  of  the  law  as  a  barrier  against  the  sins  which 
importune  us.  As  every  deed  of  man  is  an  efflux  from  his  will,  so 
the  deed  operates  back  again  upon  its  source.  As  from  the  sinful 
thought,  sinful  words  and  sinful  actions  emanate,  so  the  sinful  words 
and  actions  have  a  reflex  influence  upon  the  thought.  Vanity,  anger, 
unchaste  desire  harass  our  spirits  within,  and  are  clamorous  to  break 
out  in  words.  At  last  you  speak  the  word, — the  fiery  dart  flies 
back  ignited  into  your  heart.  Therefore  what  the  Lord  said  to  Cain 
is  always  appropriate  ; — '  If  thou  be  not  seriously  inclined,  sin  lieth  at 
the  door ;  yet  surrender  thou  not  thy  desire  to  it,  but  rule  over  it.'1 

1  Gen.  4:  7.  If  thou  doest  not  well,  sin  stands  ready  to  be  committed,  lieth 
in  wait  for  thee  ;  but  thy  duty  is,  not  to  be  overcome  by  it,  not  to  comply  with 
its  solicitations  however  urgent,  Rom.  6:  12,  but  to  resist  and  subdue  it.  This 
is  the  interpretation  of  RosenmOller  and  others. — Tr. 


DISCIPLINE  OF  LAW. 


121 


Christians,  we  are  permitted  in  no  circumstances  to  surrender  our 
wills  to  sin.  If  the  spirit  cannot  repress  it  from  its  own  impulses, 
we  must  place  against  it,  from  without,  the  barrier  of  the  law.  In 
the  effeminacy  of  the  present  times,  our  Christianity  fails  in  this 
respect,  more  than  in  any  other.  Our  religion  is  one  of  feeling,  but 
not  of  prayer  and  of  law.  If  we  feel  ourselves  piously  excited,  then 
we  are  pious;  if  the  feeling  be  irreligious,  then  we  yield  to  impulse 
and  are  irreligious.  But  have  we  not  read,  that  '  through  the  Spirit 
we  should  die  to  the  things  of  the  flesh  ?'  Christians,  every  instant 
of  our  life,  must  we  obey  the  invisible  King,  whose  we  are  ?  Can 
we  not  obey  him  as  his  children  ?  Well  then,  we  must  obey  him 
as  his  servants.  Obey,  we  must.  Accordingly,  there  must  be, 
every  instant,  some  ruling  power  in  the  life  of  a  Christian,  to  control 
him ;  and  if  this  be  not  the  flame  of  the  spirit,  from  within,  it  must 
be  the  barrier  of  the  law  from  without.  Who  has  been  a  man  of 
such  spiritual  excellence  as  Paul  ?  And  yet  even  with  him  the 
work  of  sanctification  was  not  completed  with  perfect  ease,  and 
freedom  from  the  law.  Even  he  was  obliged  to  set  before  himself 
a  dike  and  barrier  from  without ;  for  he  says,  4  I  mortify  my  body 
and  afflict  it,  that  I  may  not  preach  the  Gospel  to  others,  and  be 
myself  cast  away.'  Wherefore,  Christians,  write  it  deeply  upon  your 
consciences,  nothing  is  less  seemly  for  a  religious  man,  than  for 
him  at  any  time  to  give  the  rein  to  his  evil  passions.  He  only  can 
give  way  to  his  impulses  who  has  no  Lord.  But  we,  if  we  live,  then 
let  us  live  to  the  Lord  ;  if  we  die,  then  let  us  die  to  Him.  Whether 
therefore  we  live  or  die,  we  still  are  the  Lord's.  A  Christian  can- 
not surrender  himself  up  to  evil  feelings  ;  either  he  will  be  incited 
by  the  urgency  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  he  will  be  held  back  by  the 
barrier  of  the  law  of  God.  Beloved,  think  of  a  man,  who  has  been 
permitted  to  dwell  near  his  monarch,  before  the  face  of  that  mon- 
arch to  pass  his  life,  will  he  ever  let  himself  depart  from  that  mon- 
arch's will  ?  No.  He  will  never  allow  this  departure.  If  he  is  not 
incited  by  the  spirit  of  reverence  and  love  from  within,  he  will  yet 
be  held  back  from  without  by  the  restraints  of  the  law.  But  we 
also,  Christians,  live  continually  before  the  face  of  a  great  King,  the 
omnipresent  God;  wherefore  woe  to  us,  if  we  ever  let  ourselves 
depart  from  his  will ! 

This  is  the  place  for  learning  the  nature  of  those  external  laws, 
which  are  not  properly  moral  laws,  but  are  simply  designed  for  the 
16 


122 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


discipline  and  regulation  of  the  outer  life.  You  may  perhaps  have 
often  looked  with  astonishment  upon  that  indefinite  number  of  ex- 
ternal ceremonies  and  statutes,  with  which  Moses  encompassed  the 
children  of  the  old  dispensation.  An  Israelite  could  scarcely  spend 
a  single  hour,  without  being  reminded  of  some  one  of  the  many  out- 
ward duties,  which  were  prescribed  for  him.  These  outward 
disciplinary  laws  were  the  very  barrier,  which  has  been  described 
for  the  sinful  inclinations  of  such  a  heart  as  was  not  swayed  by  the 
Spirit.  If,  from  the  depth  of  the  Israelite's  consciousness,  the  feeling 
did  not  force  itself  upon  him,  that  he  was  dependent,  constantly,  and 
in  all  his  deeds  upon  the  invisible  King  of  all  kings,  still,  by  such  a 
system  of  outward  legal  discipline,  this  feeling  must  have  been  ever 
freshly  excited  in  his  bosom.  He  was  not  permitted  to  resign  him- 
self to  his  impulses.  Every  one  of  these  commands  would  be,  as  it 
were,  a  fact  preaching  to  the  heart  that  had  forgotten  its  Creator, — 
Man,  thou  art  a  servant  of  God.  And  since  we,  Christians,  so  far 
as  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  does  not  dwell  within  us,  stand  in  general, 
like  the  Israelites,  under  the  outward  discipline  of  the  law,  so  we 
cannot  dispense  with  such  an  outward  disciplinary  administration, 
such  external  ordinances.  They  are  a  barrier  to  the  sins  that 
harass  our  minds. 

How  far  even  the  most  spiritual  Christian  is  from  being  so  much 
of  a  spirit,  as  to  have  no  further  need  of  the  prescribed  external  ob- 
servances, I  am  able  to  show  by  an  example  relating  to  the  services  of 
divine  worship.  You  have  heard  of  that  sect  of  Christians,  calling 
themselves  by  the  simple  name  of  Friends,  who  strenuously  insist, 
that  in  the  sacred  assemblies  of  Christians  the  fire  of  devotion  should 
enkindle  itself  simply  and  solely  from  within  ;  and  they  therefore 
wish  to  hear  of  no  call  of  the  bell  to  devotion,  no  temples  stretching 
up  toward  heaven,  no  sacred  vestments  for  the  Sabbath,  and  no  holy 
seasons.  They  come  together  under  no  other  sound  of  the  bell  than 
that  of  praying  souls ;  and  with  no  other  sacred  vesture,  than  the 
ornament  of  devotion.  And  in  what  other  manner,  they  ask,  can 
we  properly  explain  the  instructions  of  the  Lord  about  worshipping 
in  spirit  and  in  truth  ?  And  it  is  a  fact ;  did  the  sacred  tide  of 
spiritual  influence  diffuse  itself  through  our  whole  internal  system, 
what  need  should  we  have  of  these  solemn  altars,  and  these  sacer- 
dotal vestments ;  of  the  sound  of  the  bell,  and  the  organ-tone,  and 
of  such  halls  aspiring  to  heaven  ?    Oh,  at  that  Sabbath,  when 


DISCIPLINE  OP  LAW. 


123 


Christians  shall  keep  their  everlasting  rest,  the  time  will  have  ar- 
rived, when  we  shall  worship  perfectly,  in  spirit  and  in  truth  ;  when 
the  glorified  company  of  the  Lord  shall  no  more  need  the  organ, 
and  the  sound  of  the  hell,  to  awaken  their  inward  devotion  !  But  who 
of  us  is  not  fully  convinced,  that  in  our  present  state,  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  having  manifested  himself  within  us  scarcely  in  his  first 
fruits,  we  cannot  dispense,  not  even  the  most  spiritual  among  us, 
with  these  outward  ordinances  and  disciplinary  forms  ?  If  then,  in 
the  public  worship  of  God,  the  external  regulation  must  come  to  the 
aid  of  the  spirit,  the  same  is  true  in  our  whole  religious  life.  We 
need  an  external  regulation  which  may  cooperate  with  the  efforts  of 
the  spirit.  The  whole  Christianity  of  our  time  too  wants  such  an 
external  system  ;  for  it  is  moving  in  uncertainty  hither  and  thither 
upon  the  waves  of  feeling.  There  is  no  longer  a  solemn  observance 
of  Sundays  and  a  regular  attendance  at  church  ;  there  is  but  little 
regular  secret  prayer  in  the  closet,  or  social  prayer  in  the  family. 
Spirit !  Spirit !  we  cry  out ;  but  should  the  prophets  of  God  come 
again,  as  they  came  of  old,  and  should  they  look  upon  our  works, — 
Flesh!  Flesh!  they  would  cry  out  in  response.  Of  a  truth,  my 
friends,  even  the  most  spiritual  among  us  cannot  dispense  with  a 
rule,  a  prescribed  form,  in  his  morality  and  piety,  without  allowing 
the  flesh  to  resume  its  predominance.  You  are  all  obliged  to  con- 
fess, that  the  sway  of  the  Spirit  of  God  within  your  minds  is  yet 
weak  ;  carry,  then,  holy  ordinances  into  your  life.  As  the  apostle 
commands  you,  take  your  food  with  the  expression  of  thanks;  by 
this  means  will  you  be  reminded  that  your  sustenance  is  the  gift  of 
unmerited  mercy. — Observe  your  Sunday  by  attendance  at  church, 
and  by  prayer ;  so  you  may  vividly  call  to  mind,  at  least  on  that 
day,  as  you  do  not  during  the  whole  week,  who  your  Lord  is,  and 
to  what  company  you  belong.  Offer  solitary  prayer  in  your  closet, 
and  social  prayer  in  your  family.  And  should  it  seem  to  you  that 
the  yoke  is  too  severe,  reflect  that  you  have  already  received  the 
first  fruits  of  the  Spirit ;  love  to  your  Saviour  has  commenced  within 
you  ;  and  this  principle  of  love,  must  unite  with  the  principle  of 
obedience,  else  it  will  be  nearly  as  difficult  for  you  as  for  any  one 
to  obey  the  law,  simply  because  it  is  law.  Think  of  the  severest 
duties,  the  acutest  sufferings  of  disease,  the  heaviest  losses  ;  is  it  not 
true,  that  love  will  here  insinuate  itself,  and  if  it  will  not  do  every 
thing,  will  at  least  help  to  make  the  duty  and  the  command  easy  to  you  ? 


124 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


But  if  the  external  discipline  of  the  law  were  necessary  neither  as 
a  representation  of  virtue,  which  we  have  not,  nor  as  a  barrier 
against  the  sins  which  harass  us,  still  it  would  be  beneficial  as  a 
seal  of  the  method  of  salvation  which  we  have  chosen — of  salvation 
by  grace.  Let  us  now,  in  the  conclusion  of  our  discourse,  glance 
at  this  topic. 

This  outward  discipline  of  the  law,  if  we  subject  ourselves  to  it,  is 
a  perpetual  seal,  that  the  way  to  the  Father,  which  we  have  chosen, 
a  way  opened  by  the  grace  that  appears  in  Christ,  is  all  that  can 
make  man  happy.  Whoever  faithfully  subjects  himself  to  the 
discipline  of  the  divine  law,  is  confident,  is  without  a  doubt,  that 
neither  happiness  in  the  world  to  come,  nor  peace  in  the  present 
world,  is  ever  obtained  on  the  ground  of  mere  desert.  Such  an  one 
learns  for  the  first  time,  by  this  legal  discipline,  how  difficult  it  is  to 
obey  the  law  of  God. — But  you  ask,  can  there  be  among  us  the 
false  conceit,  that  any  one  has  merit  before  God,  when  there  is  no 
word  oftener  sounded  in  our  ears  from  the  pulpit,  than  Love,  and 
Grace  ?  My  friends,  I  tell  you,  this  error  does  prevail  among 
us,  and  perhaps  in  no  less  degree  than  in  the  church,  from  which 
ours  originated.  With  the  altered  times,  indeed,  this  error  has  as- 
sumed a  new  dress.  It  has  put  on  the  garb  of  moral  improvement. 
The  hand  of  eternal  justice  holds  the  two  scales  of  the  balance  ;  into 
the  left  scale  fall  your  wicked  deeds,  and  into  the  right  your  virtues. 
Will  the  right  be  so  heavy  as  to  sink  ? — Will  the  right  sink  ? — Oh, 
I  would  not  depend  upon  it,  that  from  the  heart  of  any  one  present, 
there  would  come  a  negative  answer  to  this  question.  I  could  not 
confidently  anticipate  such  an  answer,  for — your  eye  is  too  dim  to 
discern  what  falls  into  the  left  scale.  You  perceive  the  works  of 
your  hand,  but  the  works  of  your  mouth,  of  your  heart,  you  see  not. 
But  look,  Christians,  at  the  unrighteous  words,  the  unrighteous 
thoughts  and  wishes,  which  have  been  ever  rising  up  from  your 
hearts !  Behold  them — fallen  down  without  number  into  the  left 
scale.  But  I  hear  the  words  uttered  eagerly,  loudly,  and  without 
delay,  from  the  hearts  of  most  men, — "  Ah  no  !  the  right  hand  scale 
will  rise  /"  What  then,  my  friends,  will  you  place  in  it,  so  ihat  it 
may  sink  ?  Will  you  place  in  it  the  unmerited  mercy  of  God  in 
Jesus  Christ? — Oh  I  see,  I  see  that  some  tears  drop  into  the  right 
hand  scale  ;  some  tears  of  sadness  and  penitence  ;  and  the  left  scale 
seems  to  ascend  before  your  eyes. — Yea,  Christians,  if  the  church 


GENTLENESS  OF  CHRIST. 


125 


of  Rome  has  placed  a  legal  righteousness  in  mortifications  and 
pilgrimages,  so  have  we  placed  a  legal  righteousness  in  tears.  It  is 
indeed  very  true,  there  is  in  a  solitary  tear  an  uncomputed  weight, 
greater  than  all  the  weight  of  the  mountains  of  the  world ;  in  a  tear 
which  flows  from  the  deepest  fountain  of  the  penitent  soul ;  and  yet, 
even  tears  cannot  atone  for  us.  And  the  reason  of  their  insufficiency 
is  not  the  simple  fact,  that  our  penitence  is  never  deep  enough,  and 
our  tears  are  never  warm  enough  ;  by  no  means  ;  nothing  but  the 
pure  unmerited  grace  of  God,  appropriated  to  ourselves  by  faith,  can 
make  the  atonement  for  our  sins. — Believer,  this  grace  will  fall  into 
your  right  hand  scale,  and  the  scale  will  sink  ! — To  this  consciousness 
now,  that  neither  our  works  nor  our  tears  can  cause  the  right  hand 
scale  to  descend,  only  that  man  comes,  who  has  travelled  in  the 
rough  way  of  the  discipline  of  God's  law.  So  it  is  then,  that  this 
severe  life  under  the  law  stamps  a  sure  seal  upon  the  fact,  that  we 
have  chosen  for  our  good  the  way  of  grace,  a  way  that  conducts  us 
to  happiness  in  the  life  to  come,  and  to  peace  of  heart  in  this  life. 

Come  then,  Christians,  whoever  of  you  are  earnestly  engaged  for 
your  highest  welfare,  never  surrender  yourselves  to  your  sinful  im- 
pulses. Pray  for  the  Spirit  of  God,  who  moveth  the  children  of 
God  from  within.  Whenever  a  single  duty,  a  single  command  is 
presented  to  your  conscience  and  you  are  not  able  to  perform  the 
duty,  to  obey  the  command,  under  the  mere  incitement  of  the  spirit, 
then  surrender  yourselves  in  obedience  to  the  divine  law.  It  will 
be  for  you  a  school-master  to  bring  you  to  Christ,  and  to  afford  you 
the  favor  of  communing  with  the  Son  of  man.  Whoever  is  actua- 
ted by  the  Spirit  of  God,  the  same  is  Lord  of  the  Sabbath.  He  is  a 
righteous  man,  and  as  the  apostle  says,  no  law  is  given  to  him. 


SERMON  II.  i 

GENTLENESS  OF  CHRIST. 

Christians,  this  day  are  you  assembled  the  second  time,  for  the 
purpose  of  celebrating  the  advent  of  a  child.    What  a  birth-day 

1  For  an  Analysis  of  this  Sermon,  see  Note  D,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


126 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


solemnity  is  this  !  What  child  is  there  among  mortals,  whose  birth 
is  celebrated  by  such  multitudes  as  in  all  parts  of  the  world  go  this 
day  to  their  holy  places,  and  by  such  tears  of  joy  as  are  poured  out 
this  day  in  many  a  closet.  And  this  has  been  the  fact  for  eighteen 
hundred  years,  and  will  continue  to  be,  as  long  as  time  shall  endure. 
My  christian  friends,  either  this  child  was  in  fact  incomparably  su- 
perior to  all  children,  who  have  ever  been  placed  at  the  mother's 
breast ;  or  else  Christendom  is  devoted  to  error,  as  no  other  com- 
munity of  men  has  been.  But  no  !  Christians,  under  no  miscon- 
ception do  you  come  together  in  the  holy  place  ;  under  no  miscon- 
ception do  the  flames  of  sacrifice  ascend,  pure  and  holy,  to  heaven, 
from  all  parts  of  the  world,  on  this  day.  The  child  that  was  born  to 
you  to  day  is  the  Prince  of  Peace,  the  Government  is  upon  his 
shoulders.  And  the  two  days  which  are  set  apart  in  our  christian 
community,  for  the  purpose  of  celebrating  his  advent,  are  only  the 
highest  point  of  that  festival  in  honor  of  the  infant's  birth,  which  is 
observed  by  all  redeemed  hearts  as  often  as,  in  their  anguish  and 
forebodings,  they  console  themselves  with  the  thought,  that  this  infant 
is  the  Redeemer  from  all  sin  and  all  evil. 

Delightful  and  instructive  is  this  day-spring  from  on  high,  as  the 
Holy  Scripture  denominates  the  birth  of  Jesus,  whether  we  consider 
what  the  Redeemer  has  abolished,  or  the  particular  style  of  action 
which  he  adopted.  It  is  this  last  consideration  which  will  engage 
our  minds  during  our  present  exercise.  The  passage,  to  which  we 
annex  the  discussion,  we  find  in  1  Kings,  19:  1 — 13. — "  And  Ahab 
told  Jezebel  all  that  Elijah  had  done,  and  how  he  had  slain  all  the 
prophets  with  the  sword.  Then  Jezebel  sent  a  messenger  unto 
Elijah,  and  said  unto  him, — 1  May  the  gods  do  to  me  this  and  more 
also,  if  I  do  not,  tomorrow  about  this  time,  make  thy  life  like  the  life 
of  one  of  these  men.'  When  he  saw  that,  he  arose  and  went  forth 
whither  he  would,  and  came  to  Beersheba  in  Judah  and  left  his 
servant  there.  But  he  himself  went  a  day's  journey  into  the  desert, 
and  came  and  seated  himself  under  a  juniper  tree,  and  prayed  that 
he  might  die,  and  said, — 'It  is  enough  ;  so  now,  Lord,  take  away 
my  life  ;  I  am  not  better  than  my  fathers.'  And  he  lay  down  and 
slept  under  the  juniper  tree.  And  behold,  an  angel  touched  him, 
and  said  to  him, — 4  Rise  up  and  eat.'  And  he  looked  around  him, 
and  behold  at  his  head  lay  toasted  bread  and  a  can  of  water.  And 
when  he  had  eaten  and  drank,  he  lay  down  again  to  sleep.  And 


GENTLENESS  OF  CHRIST. 


127 


the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  the  second  time,  and  touched  him,  and 
said, — 4  Rise  up  and  eat ;  for  thou  hast  a  long  journey  before  thee.' 
And  he  arose,  and  ate  and  drank,  and  went  on  the  strength  of  that 
food  forty  days  and  forty  nights,  even  to  Horeb,  the  mount  of  God. 
And  he  went  unto  a  cave  there,  and  remained  in  the  cave  over 
night.  And  behold,  the  word  of  the  Lord  came  unto  him,  and  said  to 
him, — 1  What  doest  thou  here,  Elijah  ?'  He  said, — '  I  have  been  zeal- 
ous for  the  Lord,  the  God  of  Hosts  ;  for  the  children  of  Israel  have 
forsaken  thy  covenant,  and  broken  down  thine  altars,  and  slain  thy 
prophets  with  the  sword  ;  and  I  only  am  left,  and  they  attempt  to 
take  my  life.  4  Go  forth,'  he  said, '  and  stand  upon  the  mount  before 
the  Lord.'  And  behold  the  Lord  passed  by,  and  a  great  and  strong 
wind  rent  the  mountains,  and  broke  in  pieces  the  rocks  before  the 
Lord  ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  wind.  After  the  wind,  came  an 
earthquake  ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake.  And  after 
the  earthquake,  came  a  fire  ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  fire.  And 
after  the  fire  came  a  gentle  soft  sound.  When  Elijah  heard  this, 
he  hid  his  face  in  his  mantle,  and  went  out,  and  stood  in  the  door  of 
his  cave." 

When  you  see  the  child  of  God,  whose  birth  we  this  day  cele- 
brate, descending  in  the  still  night  to  the  manger  in  little  Bethle- 
hem, unnoticed  by  all  the  great  and  wise  of  the  earth  ;  and  when 
you  see  the  small  company  of  shepherds  celebrating  the  natal  day  ; 
and  when  you  understand  the  passage  just  recited  from  the  Old 
Testament ;  tell  me,  does  it  not  appear  to  you  as  if  the  ancient 
narration,  which  we  have  read,  were  barely  a  prophetical  discourse 
on  the  birth  of  your  Saviour  ? — The  Lord  is  not  in  the  storm  and 
the  tempest,  but  in  the  gentle  soft  sound; — this  is  the  sentiment  here 
proclaimed  to  us.  It  is  indeed  true,  that  when  originally  uttered, 
the  words  had  a  reference  very  different  from  that  which  we  have 
just  noticed.  If  we  look  for  the  meaning  of  this  elevated  symboli- 
cal appearance  in  the  connection  of  Elijah's  history,  we  shall  see 
how  the  great  prophet  had  been  consumed  with  zeal  in  the  contest 
against  the  impiety  of  his  nation,  and  how  his  love  of  life  even  had 
forsaken  him.  '  He  went  a  day's  journey  into  the  wilderness,  and 
seated  himself  under  a  juniper  tree,  and  prayed  that  he  might  die, 
and  said, — It  is  enough,  so  take  now,  Lord,  my  life  from  me.'  This 
appearance  therefore  may  be  regarded  as  a  mere  admonition,  that 
God  was  not  in  the  consuming  zeal  of  Elijah,  so  far  as  that  zeal  was 


128 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


unsustained  by  love,  by  patience,  by  forgiveness.  There  would  be 
found,  in  this  reference  of  our  text,  a  rich  subject  of  consideration, 
if  I  were  disposed  to  show  yon,  in  what  way  the  zeal  of  Elijah  must 
be  tempered,  in  order  that  God  may  be  in  it.  The  topics  for  con- 
sideration and  application,  which  the  subject  presents  to  us,  are  very 
various,  whether  we  apply  the  subject  to  the  mode  in  which  we  are 
related  to  God,  or  the  mode  in  which  He  is  related  to  us ;  whether 
we  apply  it  to  the  history  of  the  world,  or  to  an  individual  heart. 
Variously  and  in  multiplied  forms  is  it  true,  that  God  is  not  in  the 
storm  and  tempest,  but  in  the  soft  gentle  sound.1  To  day, however, 
we  will  consider  this  truth  in  regard  to  the  manifestations  of  the 
Saviour  of  the  world  ;  and,  first,  in  regard  to  his  entrance  into  the 
world  ;  secondly,  in  regard  to  his  progress  through  the  world  ;  and 
thirdly,  in  regard  to  his  departure  from  it.  Throughout  the  whole 
discussion,  we  will  inquire  how  he  might  have  appeared  when  con- 
fronting a  finite  race,  and  when  confronting  a  sinful  race,  and  how 
he  actually  did  appear. 

1.  '  The  Lord  is  not  in  the  storm  and  the  tempest,  but  in  the  soft 
gentle  sound.'  Thus  are  we  addressed  by  the  entrance  of  the  Son 
of  God  into  the  world.  How  might  he  have  appeared  when  he 
met  a  finite  race  ? — There  rests  concealed  behind  all  the  excellence 
of  nature,  there  rests  concealed  behind  every  spectacle  in  history, 
there  is  ruling  concealed  in  the  depth  of  the  earth,  there  is  ruling 
concealed  in  the  immensity  of  the  starry  world,  the  eternal  spirit, 
which  we  call  God !  There  are  hours,  when  thou  dost  imagine 
thyself  to  come  near  him  ; — oh,  there  are  wonderful  hours  in  the 
life  of  man,  when  it  is  as  if  the  great  mystery  of  all  existence  would 
at  once  burst  asunder  its  bar,  and  come  forth,  unveiled  !  Our  in- 
most soul  is  agitated  at  such  an  hour.  But  how  is  it  when  the  bar 
is  actually  burst  asunder;  when  he  who  dwells  in  unappi-oachable 
light,  where  no  man  can  draw  near, — when  the  infinite  Spirit,  who 
sustains  heaven  and  earth,  assumes  a  visible  form,  and  appears 
among  his  finite  creatures  ?  Who  does  not  now  expect,  what  is 
written  of  the  day  of  his  second  coming,  that  his  heavens,  which  are 
his  throne,  will  tremble  ;  that  this  -small  earth,  his  footstool,  will 
shake  ;  that  a  foreboding  sentiment,  such  as  we  have  elsewhere  dis- 
covered at  the  occurrence  of  great  natural  phenomena,  will  seize  all 
tribes  of  the  earth,  and  cause  some  to  rejoice,  and  others  to  weep  ! — 
1  See  Note  E,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


GENTLENESS  OF  CHRIST. 


129 


'  Soon  after  the  affliction  of  that  period,'  it  is  written, 1  the  sun  and 
the  moon  shall  lose  their  brightness,  and  the  stars  shall  fall  from 
heaven,  and  the  powers  of  heaven  shall  be  shaken  ;  and  then  shall 
appear  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  man  in  heaven,  and  then  shall  all  the 
tribes  of  the  earth  wail ;  and  they  shall  see  the  Son  of  man  coming 
in  the  clouds  of  heaven,  with  great  power  and  glory.'  Yet  behold, 
as  nature  is  everywhere  still  when  she  creates,  and  loud  only  when 
she  destroys,  so  is  she  still,  indescribably  still,  when  the  greatest  of 
all  who  are  born  of  women  comes  into  the  world.  The  sun  did  not 
stand  motionless  in  the  heavens,  when  he  came  ;  it  was  night.  He 
did  not  make  his  first  appearance  in  the  capital  city  ;  but  in  one  of 
the  smallest  places  of  the  land.  No  sleeper  waked  up  at  his  coming  ; 
but  only  they  who  watched  through  the  night  had  intelligence  of  his 
advent.  The  earth  that  night  did  not  shake  ;  the  heaven  that  night 
did  not  tremble.  Only  a  few  childlike  souls,  who  then  kept  vigil  at 
his  birth,  trembled  ;  yet  their  trembling  was  a  trembling  for  joy. 
"  The  eternal  light  enters,"  says  the  poet, "  and  gives  the  world  a  new 
splendor;  it  shines  clearly  at  midnight,  and  makes  us  children  of  the 
light.  He  whom  the  whole  circumference  of  the  world  could  not 
embrace,  lies  in  the  womb  of  Mary.  He,  who  alone  sustains  the 
universe,  has  become  a  little  infant." 

How  might  Jesus  have  appeared  when  he  met  a  sinful  world  ? 
He  will,  at  his  second  coming,  appear  to  it  as  its  Judge  ;  and  at  his 
first  coming,  even  then,  it  might  have  been  said,  in  the  words  of  the 
poet, — "  Trembling  at  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  will  proclaim 
the  approach  of  the  Judge,  and  he  will  search  into  the  hearts  of 
men."  Even  at  that  advent,  might  an  anxious  foreboding  have 
seized  the  whole  world  of  sinners  ;  even  then  might  they  have  cried, 
as  they  will  one  day  cry, — '  Ye  mountains,  cover  us  ;  ye  hills,  fall  on 
us.'  Yet  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  tempest,  but  in  the  gentle  soft 
sound  ;  and  the  heavenly  hosts  sung  at  his  birth, — Peace  on  earth 
and  good  will  to  men.  As  the  poet  says, — "  The  Son  of  the  Father 
who  has  the  same  nature  with  God,  became  a  guest  in  our  world; 
he  raised  us  up  from  the  valley  of  our  lamentation,  and  gave  us  an 
inheritance  in  his  palace." 

Beloved  of  God,  with  what  feelings  must  we  keep  this  natal  feast, 
when  we  reflect  how  the  Redeemer  might  have  appeared,  and  how 
he  did  appear ;  and  moreover,  when  we  reflect  on  the  other  side, 
how  he  will  appear  at  a  future  period.    For,  says  the  apostle, — 
17 

k 


130 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


1  He  hath  taken  and  will  retain  possession  of  heaven,  until  the  time 
when  all  these  things  shall  be  accomplished,  which  God  hath  fore- 
told by  the  mouth  of  all  his  holy  prophets.'1  He  who  came  the 
first  time  to  save  sinners,  will  come  the  second  time  to  judge  them  ; 
he  who  came  the  first  time  to  bear  our  sins,  will  come  the  second 
time  to  condemn  them.  Now  we  are  enjoying  the  day  of  comfort, 
when  the  Lord  does  not  appear  in  the  tempest  but  in  the  soft  gentle 
sound  ;  oh  then  let  our  hearts  be  touched  by  this  soft  gentle  sound ! 
Let  us  kneel  down  at  the  manger,  let  us  worship  with  the  pious 
shepherds,  let  us  strow  myrrh  with  the  kings  from  the  East. 

2.  The  Lord  is  not  in  the  tempest,  but  in  the  soft  still  sound  ; — 
this  has  been  verified  in  the  progress  of  Christ  through  the  world. 
4  He  had,'  as  the  apostle  tells  us, 4  not  thought  it  robbery  to  be  equal 
with  God,  he  had  deprived  himself  of  his  rightful  dignity,  and  ta- 
ken the  form  of  a  servant,  and  he  became  even  like  another  man, 
and  was  found  in  appearance  as  a  man.'2  But  even  among  men 
there  are  gods  ;  that  is,  there  are  such  as,  on  account  of  the  dignity 
and  elevation  of  their  rank  in  relation  to  other  men,  are  called  gods 
of  the  earth.  Yet  it  was  submitted  to  his  choice,  whether  he  would 
reign  in  a  palace,  or  in  a  hut ;  whether  the  proclamation, — '  come 
unto  ine,ye  who  are  miserable  and  heavy  laden,1  should  be  sounded 
from  a  throne  or  from  the  highways  and  hedges  ; — whether  nothing 
but  the  brightness  of  a  celestial  world,  that  had  been  kept  concealed, 
should  come  to  the  eyes  of  mortals,  or  at  the  same  time  the  bright- 
ness of  an  earthly  dignity  should  blind  them.  But  lo  !  the  Lord  is 
in  the  gentle  soft  sound.  The  house  of  a  carpenter  in  Nazareth  is 
not  too  low  for  the  king  of  heaven,  that  he  should  abide  therein  ;  the 
woollen  garment,  woven  throughout,  is  not  too  strait  for  the  Lord  of 
glory  that  he  should  wrap  himself  in  it  as  he  travelled  through  this 
vale  of  earth.  The  King  of  all  kings  chooses  the  office  of  a  servant, 
among  servants,  his  subjects  ;- — in  this  way  did  he  go  forth  to  meet 
his  finite  brethren. 

Yet  even  in  this  humble  disguise,  how  different  might  have  been 
his  mode  of  confronting  a  sinful  world,  from  what  it  was.  Though 
no  star  glistened  on  his  breast,  and  no  crown  upon  his  head,  yet  he 
carries  even  in  his  humiliation  thunder  and  lightning  on  his  tongue, 
thunder  and  lightning  in  his  hands.  What  had  been  the  result,  if  every 
word  from  the  lips  of  the  holy  man  had  been  an  imprecation  against 

■Acts  3:  21.  3  Phil.  2:  6,  7. 


GENTLENESS  OF  CHRIST. 


131 


sin,  and  every  speech  a  proclamation  of  justice  against  the  transgres- 
sor ?  The  Lord,  the  God  of  Israel  says  to  Jeremiah,  the  prophet, — 
4  Take  this  cup,  full  of  wrath,  from  my  hand,  and  pour  out  of  the  same 
upon  all  the  people  to  whom  I  send  you.'  How  had  it  been  if  the 
Son  himself  had  appeared,  with  the  cup  full  of  wrath  in  his  hand, 
and  with  his  voice  of  authority,  to  execute  justice  upon  a  fallen 
world  ?  But  the  Lord  is  not  in  the  tempest ;  he  is  in  the  soft  gentle 
sound.  '  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye  my  people  ;  speak  ye  kindly  to 
Jerusalem  ;  proclaim  to  her  that  her  warfare  is  accomplished,  and 
her  sin  is  forgiven,1 — this  was  the  text  of  his  prophetical  discourse. 
When  he  comes,  for  the  first  time,  into  the  synagogue  of  Nazareth, 
he  turns  to  the  saying  of  the  prophet, — '  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is 
upon  me,  because  he  hath  anointed  me,  and  sent  me  to  preach  the 
Gospel  to  the  poor,  to  heal  bruised  hearts,  to  proclaim  to  the  captives 
that  they  may  be  at  liberty,  to  the  blind  that  they  may  receive  sight, 
and  to  the  bruised  that  they  may  be  free  and  unshackled  ; — to  preach 
the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord.  And  as  all  eyes  in  the  synagogue 
were  fastened  upon  him,  he  began  to  say  unto  them, — This  day  is 
this  Scripture  fulfilled  in  your  ears.'  1  Wisdom  is  justified  of  her 
children,  and  becomes  the  companion  of  publicans  and  sinners.'1 — 
He  does  indeed  bear  in  his  hand  a  cup  of  wine  ; — but  it  is  not  the 
wine  of  the  wrath  of  God ;  it  is  the  wine  with  which  the  Samaritan 
washes  the  wounds  of  the  bruised  man  ;  it  is  the  cup  of  wine,  of 
which  he  says, — '  Drink  ye  all  of  it ;  it  is  my  blood  of  the  New 
Testament,  which  was  shed  for  many,  for  the  remission  of  sins.' 
For  the  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament  there  is  no  higher  praise, 
than  that  they  moved  about  in  1  the  spirit  and  the  power  of  Elias,'  as 
it  is  also  written  of  John  the  Baptist ;  that  they  opened  their  mouth, 
and  restrained  not  their  voice,  and  proclaimed  aloud, — i  The  axe  is 
laid  at  the  root  of  the  tree.'  But  of  this  prophet  of  the  New  Dis- 
pensation it  is  written,  in  delightful  words,  what  is  written  of  none 
besides, — '  He  shall  not  strive  nor  cry,  and  his  voice  shall  not  be 
heard  in  the  street ;  a  bruised  reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  the 
glowing  wick  shall  he  not  quench.'  Thus  does  Isaiah  prophesy 
concerning  him  ;  and  do  you  know  a  more  delightful  and  appropriate 
coloring,  with  which  to  picture  him  forth  ?  Ye  glowing  wicks, 
ye  shall  not  be  extinguished  altogether  ;  thou  bruised  reed,  thou 
shalt  not  be  completely  broken  ;  for  not  in  the  tempest  doth  the 
Lord  move  among  us,  but  as  a  soft  gentle  sound. 


1  Luke  4:  18-21.  7:  35. 


132 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


We  have  only  spoken  of  the  thunder  and  the  lightning,  which 
might  have  come  forth  from  the  Messiah's  preaching ;  but  he  also 
had  the  same  power  over  the  thunder  and  the  lightning  in  his 
miraculous  interpositions.  He  who  can  lay  his  hand  on  the  blind, 
and  they  see,  can  also  nod,  and  those  who  see  shall  be  made  blind. 
He  who  can  say  to  the  leper,  '  be  clean,'  can  cover  the  clean  with 
a  leprosy.  He  who  can  say  to  the  dead,  '  stand  up,'  can  place  the 
living  in  the  slumber  of  death  by  his  bare  will.  The  storm  which  is 
stilled  in  obedience  to  his  nod,  must  also  obey  him  when  he  calls  it 
up  from  the  abyss,  to  destroy  his  adversaries.  You  owe  it  to  this 
aspect  of  the  works  and  conduct  of  Christ,  that  when  his  miraculous 
power  is  spoken  of,  you  think  merely  of  a  miraculous  power  which 
blesses.  There  is,  however,  a  miraculous  power  of  which  the 
Scripture  speaks,  which  instead  of  blessing,  punishes.  It  is  in  the 
Old  Testament  that  we  discover,  preeminently,  a  manifestation  of 
this  power.  There  is  an  instance  of  it  in  the  speech  of  Moses  against 
Koran's  company.  '  When  he  had  uttered  these  words,'  it  is  said, 
i  the  earth  beneath  them  was  rent  asunder,  and  it  opened  its  mouth, 
and  swallowed  them  up  ;  and  they  went  down  alive  into  the  pit, 
they  and  every  thing  which  they  possessed  ;  and — the  earth  cover- 
ed them  up.'  In  the  same  way  also  does  Peter,  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, say  to  Ananias, — '  Thou  hast  not  lied  unto  men,  but  unto 
God  ;  and  when  Ananias  heard  these  words,  he  fell  down  and  gave 
up  the  ghost ;  and  great  fear  came  upon  all  who  heard  this.'  Lo, 
in  this  manner  might  our  Saviour  have  gone  through  the  world,  with 
his  hand  uplifted,  conjuring  the  storm  from  the  abyss  or  the  thunder 
from  heaven  against  every  transgressor,  an  avenger  of  every  crime. 
Yet  the  Son  of  man,  it  is  said,  did  not  come  to  judge  the  world,  but 
to  save  it.  The  Lord  is  not  in  the  storm  and  tempest,  but  in  the 
soft  gentle  sound.  All  his  miracles,  his  miracles  of  deliverance  and 
of  kindness  are  designed  to  teach  us  the  spiritual  significancy  of  his 
appearance  on  the  earth.  Yea  with  perfect  faithfulness  does  the 
evangelist,  when  he  describes  a  healing  of  the  sick  by  Jesus,  apply 
to  him  the  words  of  the  prophet, — '  He  bore  our  sickness.'  For 
was  it  not  an  endurance  of  our  sickness  ;  did  he  not  in  truth  take  it 
and  bear  it  in  his  feeling  heart,  when  he  lived  from  morning  until 
evening  surrounded  with  the  infirm  and  the  miserable,  whom  he 
relieved  ? 

3.  As  was  his  entrance  into  the  world,  so  was  his  departure 


GENTLENESS  OF  CHRIST. 


133 


from  it.  The  same  instruction,  that  was  proclaimed  by  his  advent, 
and  by  his  life,  was  also  proclaimed  by  his  ascension. — How  might 
he  have  departed  ?  If  the  Lord  of  glory  whom  they  had  nailed  to 
the  cross,  but  who  could  not  be  held  by  death,  had,  when  risen  from 
the  grave  and  glorified  by  heaven,  gone  to  the  place  of  his  agonies, 
to  the  mount  of  Olives,  and  there  waved  his  banner  of  victory  be- 
fore all  the  world  ;  he  had  only  to  give  one  nod,  and  the  city  which 
had  cried  out  against  him, — '  Away  with  Jesus,  release  unto  us 
Barabbas,'  would  have  sunk  into  the  deep,  like  Sodom  and  Go- 
morrah ;  and  the  people  who  had  cried, — '  His  blood  come  upon 
us  and  upon  our  children,'  must  have  shrieked  out,—'  Ye  mountains, 
cover  us,  and  ye  hills  fall  upon  us.1  Yet  here  also  the  Lord  was 
not  in  the  storm  and  the  tempest,  but  in  the  soft  sound.  Early  in 
the  morning  did  he  once  more  assemble  his  own  in  Jerusalem  ; 
darkness  still  brooded  over  the  streets  of  the  city  ;  he  then  walked, 
in  the  stillness  of  the  morning  twilight,  with  the  eleven  to  the  moun- 
tain, which  had  witnessed  his  bloody  sweat  on  the  night  of  his  sor- 
rows. The  earliest  rays  of  the  opening  day  shone  through  the  clouds  ; 
and  then,  says  the  history,  he  lifted  up  his  hands,  and  blessed  his 
chosen  ones,  and  a  cloud  took  him  up  from  the  earth.  Amid  the 
shades  of  night  he  came  ;  in  the  redness  of  the  morning  dawn  he 
went  away ;  ever,  ever  shalt  thou  stand  before  our  souls,  thou 
glorified  Saviour,  in  the  same  attitude  in  which  thou  didst  leave  the 
world,  with  thy  hands  extended  over  thy  chosen  to  bless  them  ! 
Yea,  the  Lord  is  not  in  the  tempest,  but  in  the  soft,  mild  sound  ! 

Oh  beloved,  who  of  you  is  so  unsusceptible,  that  such  love  cannot 
allure  him.  As  long  as  it  is  called  to-day,  thy  God  corneth  in  a 
gentle  sound.  Receive  him.  Surrender  to  him  thy  heart.  He  will 
at  a  future  time  come  in  the  storm,  and  the  heaven  and  the  earth 
shall  flee  away.  Then  will  he  not  smite  thee,  but  judge  thee.  Oh, 
to-day,  if  ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts.1 

1  See  Note  F,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


134 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


SERMON  II I.i 

CAUSES  OF  THE  PRACTICAL  IIS  EFFICIENCY  OF  OUR  RESOLUTIONS 
TO  DO  GOOD. 

A  new  academical  half-year  is  a  new  section  of  life  ;  and  the 
man  who  is  conscious  of  an  object  in  living,  begins  every  distinct 
period  of  his  life  with  new  resolutions.  The  boy  enters  upon  the 
period  of  youth  with  new  resolves  ;  every  new  year  and  the  new 
day  begins  with  new  resolves;  and  with  new  resolves  do  you, 
academic  youth,  commence  the  new  half-year.  But  at  every  such 
fresh  resolution  a  thought  arises,  which  breaks  the  wing  of  him  who 
was  just  ready  to  soar,  and  by  destroying  his  confidence  robs  him  of 
his  strength ; — it  is  the  thought  of  the  many  resolutions  we  have 
made  already,  which  have  been  like  water  poured  out ;  the  thought 
of  our  innumerable  purposes  and  deeds,  which  have  been  attended 
with  no  success.  We  stand  upon  a  hill-top  ;  the  path  of  life  lies 
behind  us,  resolutions  at  every  one  of  its  stopping  places  ; — resolu- 
tions, but  no  results.  And  where  this  is  the  fact,  are  we  able  to 
look  with  confidence  into  the  future  ?  What  wonder,  if,  when  the 
eye  glances  back  upon  the  last  period  of  life,  and  idly  rests  upon  the 
hope,  that  as  the  land  behind  us  has  been  one  of  resolutions  only, 
so  that  before  us  will  be  one  of  results, — what  wonder,  I  say,  if  even 
the  doubt  should  then  thrust  itself  upon  the  mind, — '  Who  knows, 
but  in  the  land  before  us  also — ! '  Has  a  resolution  never  been 
brought  to  successful  issue  on  the  earth  ?  Who  then  will  give  se- 
curity, that  it  shall  be  successful  hereafter. — And  who  can  stand 
with  a  wing  so  broken,  without  being  an  object  of  commiseration  ? 
And  would  Christianity  deserve  the  name  of  a  power,  if  it  could 
carry  men  on  no  further  than  this?  Never,  never !  Either  Chris- 
tianity is  no  power  from  God,  or  we,  who  have  not  firmness  to  ex- 
ecute the  purpose  of  doing  everything  demanded  by  the  divine  will, 
are  no  Christians  ;  we  belong  not  to  the  same  company  of  disciples 
with  him,  who  though  he  was  clothed  like  ourselves  with  flesh  and 
blood,  yet  cried  out, 4 1  can  do  all  things  through  him  who  strengthen- 
eth  me.' 

1  For  an  Analysis  of  this  Sermon,  see  Note  G,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


FRUITLESS  RESOLUTIONS. 


135 


It  is  this  solemn  consideration  which  leads  us  to  the  query,  why 
our  resolutions  so  frequently  remain  without  results  ?  We  learn  the 
answer  to  this  query  in  Psalm  119:  67,  where  the  Psalmist  makes 
this  confession,  "Before  I  was  humbled,  I  went  astray;  but  now  I 
keep  thy  word."1  We  are  unable  to  determine,  whether  or  not 
those  words  of  the  Psalmist  came  from  that  deeply  fallen  and  deeply 
humbled  monarch,  who  has  pictured  before  us,  in  so  elevating  a 
manner,  the  pains  of  sin  as  being  the  triumph  of  grace.  It  may  be 
admitted,  that  they  are  not  the  words  of  David,  yet  they  express,  as 
many  passages  which  actually  do  belong  to  him,  the  royal  Psalmist's 
experience  of  life.  In  the  innocence  of  piety,  he  had  once  sung  his 
songs  by  the  herds  of  his  father ;  he  had  sung  in  childlike  confi- 
dence ;  '  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not  want.'  But  the  au- 
thority and  splendor  of  the  throne  had  dazzled  his  eyes ;  in  this 
point  and  that  he  had  become  lifted  up  in  pride  ;  and  his  ability  to 
gratify  himself  in  all  things  had  prepared  the  way  for  the  deepest 
fall ;  even  for  the  sin  with  the  wife  of  Uriah  ;  for  a  fall  so  deep, 
that  if  we  look  at  the  outward  act,  perhaps  there  is  no  one  of  us  who 
would  not  be  better  than  he.  Severe  accusations  are  often  raised 
among  us  against  the  royal  sinner  on  account  of  this  fall.  How 
could  we  put  a  light  estimate  upon  this  guilt  which  he  had  con- 
tracted, when  he  himself  regarded  it  as  so  heinous,  that  he  cried  out; 
— '  While  I  chose  to  conceal  my  sin,  my  bones  wasted  away,  by 
means  of  my  daily  groaning  ;  for  day  and  night  was  thy  hand  upon 
me  heavily,  so  that  my  moisture  was  consumed,  as  in  a  summer's 
drought.'2  If  now  he  condemned  himself,  we  for  the  same  reason 
cannot  acquit  him.  There  are  two  things,  however,  which  we  must 
not  forget.  Should  we  forget  the  strong  temptation,  which  the  un- 
limited power  of  an  eastern  monarch  brought  with  it  ?  and  should 
we  further  forget  the  pains  of  the  repentance,  which  produced  so 
much  subsequent  fruit  ? — He,  the  absolute  monarch,  hid  his  head  in 
shame,  when  Nathan  the  prophet  said  to  him,  to  his  face,  thou  art 
the  man!  and  he  lay  in  the  dust  before  God,  even  till  he  obtained 
forgiveness  again,  and  was  able  to  cry  ; — i  Happy  is  he  whose  trans- 
gressions are  pardoned,  whose  sin  is  blotted  out ; — now  I  keep  thy 
word.'  The  man,  who  can  say  this  in  the  presence  of  God,  and 
with  a  consciousness  of  all  those  affections  within  him  which  are 
opposed  to  God,  must  be  a  man  in  whom  every  resolution  has  its 

1  See  Note  H,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons.  2  Ps.  32:  3,  4. 


136 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


yea  and  amen.  The  question,  therefore,  why  our  resolutions  have 
so  frequently  no  results,  is  at  length  answered  for  us  in  these  words, 
— because  our  sins  do  not  humble  us  in  the  right  way  ;  or,  more 
particularly,  because  we  do  not  humble  ourselves ;  do  not  humble 
ourselves  bejore  God,  do  not  humble  ourselves  in  faith. 

I  say,  in  the  first  place,  our  resolutions  are  so  frequently  unpro- 
ductive of  results,  because  we  do  not  humble  ourselves  for  our  faults. 

The  desire  of  pleasure  is  deeply  implanted  in  human  nature. 
How  completely  bound,  as  it  were  with  cords,  does  a  man  feel,  when 
he  is  not  permitted  to  enjoy  himself.  The  youth  above  all  others 
has  this  feeling,  when  all  his  senses  are  in  vigorous  play,  and  life 
opens  before  him  with  its  hundred  avenues.  This  love  of  pleasure 
when  considered  in  its  elements,  is  not  to  be  entirely  condemned. 
Our  God  is  called  the  blessed  King  of  all  kings  \l  and  shall  not  this 
most  blessed  of  all,  who  communicates  from  himself  all  other  good 
to  his  subjects,  communicate  also  his  happiness  to  them  ?  But  hu- 
mility for  our  faults  and  sins  causes  pain.  It  does  cause  pain,  pain 
indeed,  when  the  severe,  holy  eye  of  conscience  opens  itself  wide 
upon  us,  and  darts  its  rays  of  rebuke  like  consuming  lightning  upon 
our  conduct,  and  wakes  up  the  spirit  of  self-impeachment  and  shame, 
and  penitence,  and  self-condemnation.  Christian  humility  for  our  sins 
causes  not  merely  a  simple,  but  a  variously  compounded  pain. 
And  it  is  through  fear  of  this,  that  men  generally  recoil  from  begin- 
ning an  earnest  christian  life.  Through  fear  of  this,  they  remain  in 
such  a  state,  that  the  best  resolutions  are  attended  with  no  good 
consequences.  If  the  man  is  no  longer  sensual,  yet  he  has  no  heart 
to  be  spiritual ;  for  his  life  perpetually  oscillates  between  heaven  and 
earth,  between  yea  and  nay.  There  is  no  better  description  of  this 
state,  than  in  these  words  of  the  apostle  : — \  We  know  that  the  law  is 
spiritual,  but  I  am  carnal,  sold  under  sin.  For  I  know  not  what  I 
do;  for  what  I  would,  I  do  not;  but  what  I  hate,  that  I  do.'  This  is 
that  human  heart,  of  which  it  is  said  by  the  poet : — "  The  heart  of 
man  is  an  apple,  driven  over  the  level  heath  by  a  storm ;"  and 
again,  "  The  heart  of  man  is  like  water,  rising  and  sinking  in  a 
boiling  cauldron.'"  Truly,  the  disgust,  the  impotence,  the  loathing 
which  such  a  divided,  distracted  life  brings  with  it,  is  much  more  in- 
t  lerable  than  the  pain  of  humiliation  and  penitence.  Be  men, 
therefore  ;  ye  who  are  tossed  hither  and  thither  between  heaven 
1  1  Tim.  6:  15. 


FRUITLESS  RESOLUTIONS. 


137 


and  earth,  colled  your  strength,  and  make  choice  of  that  death, 
through  which  you  must  pass  on  your  way  to  life.  For  it  is  no 
otherwise  than  has  been  said  by  the  poet ; — "  We  have  a  twofold 
nature ;  yet  the  same  law  is  observed  in  one  as  in  the  other ;  the 
path  to  real  joy  winds  only  through  death  and  sorrow."  As  in  the 
present  condition  of  human  nature,  it  is  the  law  of  true  life  that  it  shall 
lead  through  death ;  the  same  is  likewise  the  law  of  moral  freedom, 
which  is  itself  the  truest  life  5 — it  also  leads  through  death,  through 
self-mortification.  Natural  life  then  and  natural  desire  must  die ; 
not  so  as  to  be  annihilated  altogether,  but  only  so  as  to  be  extricated 
from  what  opposes  the  spiritual ;  for  even  in  this  natural  desire  and 
this  natural  life,  as  you  see  it  before  you,  there  is  concealed  a  germ 
of  true  life.  This  is  most  plainly  expressed  in  the  words  of  our 
Lord,  '  Whoever  seeketh  to  preserve  his  life,  shall  lose  it,  and 
whoever  will  lose  his  life,  shall  save  it.'  Mark  this  expression,  my 
brethren,  we  shall  obtain  the  life  of  our  souls,  our  natural  life,  if  we 
will  subject  it  to  the  death  of  penitence  and  humiliation.  Then  will 
it  strip  off  its  outward  covering  and  rise  from  the  dead,  spiritually 
and  in  truth.  Brethren,  in  the  hours  of  self-impeachment  and  self- 
condemnation,  when  our  natural  desires  and  pleasures  are  surrender- 
ed up  to  death,  then  the  death  of  our  souls  does  not  take  place,  not  by 
any  means  ;  then  rather  we  obtain  for  them  a  new  life.  Why  do 
you  so  dread  the  pain  of  humbling  yourselves,  when  according 
to  the  words  of  the  Saviour,  you  shall  obtain  thereby  true  life  to 
your  spirits  ! 

We  have  thus  far  made  our  appeal  to  the  man  who  stands  with- 
out, to  him  who  does  not  live  spiritually  ;  but  we  also  make  the  same 
appeal  to  those  who  are  permitted  to  say,  that  the  life  in  God  and 
with  God  has  commenced  in  them.  For  who  is  there  among  us,  that 
has  never  been  called  to  mourn  over  resolutions  fruitless  in  good, 
purposes  leading  to  no  fulfilment  ?  Can  we  without  a  falsehood 
say  with  Paul, — 1 1  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  that  strengtheneth 
me  ?'  And  yet  this  cheerful,  victorious  courage  is  an  essential 
characteristic  of  christian  faith  !  But  does  any  one  of  you  imagine, 
that  only  such  ardent  men  as  Paul,  could  speak  thus  triumphantly? 
Hear  then  how  John  exclaims  in  the  same  cheerful  confidence, — 
4  Our  faith  is  the  victory  which  hath  overcome  the  world,  for  he  who 
is  in  us,  is  stronger  than  he  who  is  in  the  world.'  How  many  of  us,  I 
ask  once  more,  can  utter  such  an  expression  without  an  inward 
18 


138 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


falsehood  ?  What  then  is  the  reason  why  even  in  our  life,  resolu- 
tions have  no  good  effect,  purposes  are  not  fulfilled  ?  Because  we 
want  the  right  kind  of  humility.  We  have  indeed  humbled  our- 
selves ;  we  are  no  longer  like  the  world  who  live  without  conviction 
of  sin  ;  we  have,  in  the  general,  a  consciousness  of  human  guilt  and 
sinfulness  ;  but  we  do  not  discern  and  rebuke  our  sins  in  their 
individual  occurrence,  we  do  not  humble  ourselves  for  them  every 
day  and  every  hour.  Are  there  not  multitudes  even  among  the 
better  inclined,  upon  whom,  in  many  parts  of  their  character,  we  see 
some  old  habit  and  vice,  making  unresisted  but  injurious  advances  ; 
even  the  very  vice  which  is  most  thoroughly  melted  into  their  na- 
tures, and  which  should  therefore  be  most  earnestly  opposed?  We 
always  acknowledge  in  the  general, '  yes,  we  are  sinners,'  and  even 
more  particularly,  '  I  am  a  sinner but  on  what  points  I  am  daily  a 
sinner,  on  what  side  my  daily  inclination  and  conduct  is  dark  with 
wickedness,  we  do  not  inquire.  Brethren,  where  this  is  the  case, 
the  new  life  in  Christ  can  be  no  source  of  triumphant  power  to  our 
resolutions.  Why  not  ?  Because  in  our  inmost  soul  there  is  a 
want  of  truth,  and  where  truth  is  wanting,  there  power  also  is  want- 
ing. We  are  altogether  deceitful,  so  long  as  our  self-accusation  and 
self-rebuke  are  confined  merely  to  sinfulness  in  the  general,  and  do 
not  affect  the  boughs  and  branches  of  actual  sin  which  shoot  out  in 
the  life.  There  are  some  Christians,  upon  whom  the  enjoyment  of 
sense  seems  to  have  at  present  exactly  the  same  claims  which  it  had 
in  their  unconverted  life.  There  are  Christians,  who  yield  to  im- 
patience, to  anger,  to  slothfulness,  exactly  as  if  they  were  the 
children  of  the  world  ;  and — would  you  be  true  Christians?  Would 
you  be  disciples  of  him  who  has  said  of  hypocrites, — 4  by  their  fruits 
ye  shall  know  them  ?'  My  friends,  even  such  a  certainty  of  overcom- 
ing the  world  as  Paul  and  John  had,  does  not  exclude  daily  humilia- 
tion. You  know  that  Paul  says,—'  I  mortify  my  body,  and  subdue  it, 
so  that  I  may  not  preach  the  Gospel  to  others  and  be  myself  cast 
away;'  that  he  confesses, — 4  Not  that  I  have  already  attained  ;  one 
thing  I  say,  I  forget  what  is  behind,  and  strive  for  that  which  is  be- 
fore, and  run  toward  the  mark  set  before  me.'  You  understand 
also  what  the  Lord  means  when  he  says, — '  Whoever  will  follow 
me,  let  him  deny  himself  and  take  up  his  cross  daily  and  follow  me.'1 


1  Luke  9:  23. 


FRUITLESS  RESOLUTIONS. 


139 


He  speaks  here  of  daily  denying  one's  self,  of  daily  bearing  one's 
cross.  Must  it  not  necessarily  belong  to  the  christian  life,  to  sit 
daily  in  judgment  upon  one's  own  soul,  to  humble  one's  self  daily 
for  everything  which  is  so  displeasing  to  Jehovah  ? 

But  such  humiliation  as  we  here  describe  is,  in  the  second  place,  a 
humiliation  before  God.  We  must,  I  say,  humble  ourselves  before 
God ;  that  is,  our  grief  for  sin  must  be  in  view  of  the  fact,  that  we 
have  grieved  our  Maker,  and  this  our  grief  must  be  expressed  in  a 
confession  before  Him.  A  certain  kind  of  grief  for  sins  and  vices 
is  indeed  experienced  by  all,  but  it  is  difficult  to  believe  in  how 
many  cases  this  is  simply  and  solely  a  humiliation  and  grief  for  the 
sake  of  men,  for  the  sake  of  the  injury  and  the  shame  which  we  have 
prepared  for  ourselves  in  the  sight  of  others.  Yea  so  incessantly  do 
we  glance  our  eyes  toward  men,  that  we  may  say  it  would  be  a 
very  great  advance  in  piety,  if  one  should  attain  such  a  state  as  to 
grieve  over  each  of  his  iniquities,  simply  because  it  had  offended  his 
God  and  Lord.  Even  from  early  childhood,  we  are  instructed  in 
these  modern  times,  to  fix  our  eyes,  in  committing  iniquity,  only 
upon  the  opinions  of  our  fellow  mortals.  It  is  no  longer  said,  as 
formerly,  to  the  child, 4  do  not  that  thing,  the  beloved  Lord  sees  it ;' 
it  is  now  said,  '  be  well  behaved  ;  what  will  the  people  say !'  And 
so,  therefore,  we  grow  up  ;  our  glance  directed  always  to  men 
alone,  and  if  we  are  ever  ashamed  of  our  vices,  it  is  on  account  of 
the  eye  of  man,  and  not  on  account  of  that  eye,  which  seeth  the 
hidden  recess  of  the  heart.  Oh  that  you  might  again  understand, 
what  is  the  high  and  holy  meaning  of  the  word — religion  !  What 
meaning  has  it  other  than — regard  for  God  !  It  is  such  a  disposition 
of  the  inner  man,  as  leads  him  to  look  through  all  things,  through 
nature,  through  art,  through  his  goods,  through  his  palaces,  through 
his  tears  of  joy,  and  through  his  tears  of  sorrow,  through  all — to 
God.  But  if  there  must  be  religion,  a  regard  to  God,  even  in  our 
sorrow  for  sin,  how  should  it  be  exercised?  Our  sorrow  must  arise 
from  this,  that  our  iniquities  have  grieved  our  Maker.  What  says 
David,  when  he  had  committed  a  grievous  crime  against  his  fellow 
men  ?  1  Lord,  against  thee  only  have  I  sinned/  he  cries.  Not  that 
he  wished  to  hide  from  himself  the  truth  that  he  had  committed  a 
sad  offence  against  his  brother  ;  but  the  fact  that  he  had,  in  sinning 
against  his  brother,  sinned  also  against  the  commandment  of  his 
Creator,  this  is  the  sting  which  most  deeply  pierces  his  conscience ; 


140 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


this  it  is  which  makes  his  pain  so  heart-rending.  And  what  says 
Paul,  when  he  was  accused  of  having  conducted  himself  improperly 
in  his  office  ?  '  It  is  a  small  thing  that  I  am  judged  by  a  human 
tribunal.  It  is  the  Lord  who  judgeth  me.'  Our  humility  for  our 
sins  must  of  necessity  have  this  character,  in  order  that  strength 
of  resolution  may  go  forth  from  it.  If  it  be  not  of  this  kind,  it  is 
not  of  the  spiritual  kind.  You  have  surprised  yourself  in  inconti- 
nence, in  vanity,  in  anger  ;  you  are  ashamed  before  others ;  yea 
you  are  ashamed  before  your  own  conscience.  Beloved  brother,  so 
long  as  you  are  not  ashamed,  that  you  have  sinned  against  your 
Father  in  heaven,  your  sorrow  is  not  a  spiritual  sorrow.  You  have 
trespassed  against  your  fellow  mnn,  you  have  perhaps  made  his 
wife  and  child  unhappy,  you  have  even  plunged  him  into  the  grave. 
You  beat  upon  your  breast, — '  Woe  is  me  I  have  made  a  family 
miserable !'  Man,  thy  pain  is  great  and  deserved  ;  but  it  is  not  wholly 
spiritual  ;  there  yet  cleaves  to  it  such  compassion  as  flows  from  mere 
natural  sensibility.  1  Against  thee  only  have  I  sinned  and  done  evil,1 
cries  David  to  the  Lord. n  And  again,  'Lord,  be  merciful  to  me  and 
heal  my  soul ;  for  against  thee  have  I  sinned  !'2  This,  and  only 
this,  is  the  pain  which  gives  to  our  humility  the  character* of  true 
spiritual  penitence. 

And  thePgrief  for  our  sins  before  God  should  be  poured  out  in  a 
confession  before  him.  This  bare  thought,  flitting  through  the  mind 
amid  the  bustle  of  life, '  I  have  again  been  led  astray,  and  grieved  my 
Lord  and  God,' — it  is  too  transitory  a  thought,  to  be  able  to  impart 
strength  of  resolve.  We  must  step  before  the  eye  of  Him  who 
seeth  in  secret ;  and  as  our  pain  for  transgression  gains  spirituality  by 
means  of  our  sorrow  before  Jehovah,  so  does  it  gain  depth  by  our 
confession  before  him. — Why,  why,  my  friends,  has  our  Lord  laid 
so  great  stress  upon  praying  in  the  retired  closet,  and  under  the  eye 
of  him  who  seeth  in  secret  ?  This  is  the  reason  ;  man  does  not,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  come  near  to  God,  while  he  thinks  of  him  only 
transitorily,  amid  the  intercourse  of  life.  In  solitude  do  we  first 
dwell  with  ourselves;  in  solitude  does  God  first  dwell  with  us.  The 
eye,  when  it  suddenly  comes  from  darkness  into  the  light,  requires 
some  time  to  accustom  itself  to  the  brightness  ;  so  the  heart  of  man 
requires  some  time,  before  it  can  so  adjust  its  powers  as  to  receive 
into  itself  the  full  radiance  of  the  Divinity.    When,  in  the  closet,  you 

1  fi;51:6.  -Ps. 


FRUITLESS  RESOLUTIONS. 


HI 


first  spread  out  all  the  faults  of  your  heart  before  God,  then  for  the 
first  time  does  the  sun  of  divine  grace  penetrate,  with  its  mild  rays, 
deeper  and  still  deeper  into  your  soul.  Your  humility  for  sin  be- 
came spiritual,  when  you  grieved  before  the  eye,  which  seeth  in 
secret ;  it  becomes  deep,  when  you  express  your  grief  before  the 
same  all-seeing  Judge.  Brethren,  if  the  confession  of  our  guilt 
before  a  man  whom  we  have  injured  is  pleasant,  and  gives 
great  aid  in  self-reformation,  how  much  more  must  this  be  the  case 
with  the  confession  of  our  guilt  before  God,  our  heavenly  Father! 

Thirdly.  There  is,  indeed,  a  divine  strength  imparted  to  purposes  of 
amendment  by  such  confession  ;  there  is  a  divinely  sanctifying  power 
in  it ;  but  the  fullness  of  power  belongs  only  to  that  kind  of  humility 
before  God,  which  is  accompanied  with  faith.  By  faith  is  meant 
confidence  in  the  divine  word.  Nothing  but  this  faith  makes  our 
self-abasement  genuine  ;  nothing  but  this  makes  it  cheerful.  Jt 
makes,  I  say,  our  self-abasement  genuine  ;  for,  my  friends,  how 
completely  is  every  deed  of  ours  enveloped  in  darkness,  so  long  as 
we  have  not  before  us  the  pole-star  of  the  divine  word.  Even  pain 
for  sin  is  thus  enveloped  ;  and  history  shows  to  us  many  a  false  kind 
of  humility,  which  better  deserves  the  name  of  self-torment.  When- 
ever the  word  of  God  sheds  not  the  true  light  into  the  soul,  there  a 
man  grieves  indeed,  but  to  no  purpose  ;  and  at  another  time  the 
heart  remains  quietly  at  rest,  when  it  ought  to  tremble.  Thus,  es- 
pecially with  many  ingenuous  spirits  it  is  the  greatest  grief,  when 
they  come  before  God,  that  they  cannot  always  be  cheerful  and 
serene.  The  tide  of  emotion  alternates,  ebbing  and  flowing.  It  is 
seen  in  the  diaries  of  pious  men,  that  with  many  the  severest  trouble 
of  life  arises  from  the  so  frequent  alternation  of  cheerfulness  with 
despondency.  Their  self-accusations  for  this  fault  have  absolutely 
no  end.  But  how  entirely  different  would  it  be  with  us,  if  in  our 
humiliation  the  word  of  God  were  our  leading-star.  For  where  in- 
deed has  Paul  or  John,  or  the  Lord  himself  made  a  happy  state  of 
feeling  the  first  condition  of  a  holy  life  ?  They  have  demanded 
faith  and  love ;  and  this  joy  in  the  Lord,  which  the  apostle  also 
everywhere  demands, — it  will  follow  of  itself  when  faith  and  love 
have  gone  before. 

This  faith  in  the  word  of  God  gives  a  cheerfulness  to  our  peni- 
tence and  humility,  and  thus  gives  strength  to  the  resolutions ;  for  it 
makes  us  certain  of  forgiveness  of  sin  and  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 


142 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


Depression  of  mind  in  itself  can  give  us  no  power.  A  sorrowful 
disposition  indeed  always  tends  to  dissolve  the  bands  of  our  power. 
Hence  men  are  afraid  of  it ;  as  they  know  that  a  moral  life  is  in- 
vested with  strength.  And  this  strength,  beloved  friends,  you  will 
certainly  obtain,  unless  you  have  that  kind  of  depression  which  is 
unattended  with  faith. — Hear  ye  not  what  our  Psalmist  says, — '  but 
now  I  keep  thy  word  ?'  That  the  feeling  of  depression  robbed  him 
of  his  power, — oh  this  was  but  too  well  known  to  the  singer  of  Israel. 
Or  have  ye  not  heard  his  numberless  complaints,  as  when  he  cried 
out, — '  My  heart  trembles,  my  strength  hath  forsaken  me,  the  light  of 
my  eyes  hath  fled.'  But  what  does  he  say  on  the  other  side  ? 
— 4  Keep  me  by  thy  word,  that  I  may  live.'  Beloved,  the  cup 
of  humiliation  is  bitter,  but  the  ivord  of  God  therein  makes  it 
sweet;  the  cup  of  humiliation  enervates,  but  the  word  of  God 
therein  neutralizes  its  weakening  influence.  This  word  of  God 
is  the  word  of  forgiveness ;  it  is  the  promise  of  the  aid  of  that 
Spirit,  in  whose  power  even  the  imbecile  can  say,  '  I  am  strong  ;' 
the  word  which  makes  all  self-abasement  and  penitence  a  cheer- 
ful exercise.  This  word  of  God  has  already  been  proclaimed 
under  the  old  dispensation.  Already  has  David  been  able  to  sing 
in  his  strength, — '  Happy  is  he  whose  iniquities  are  forgiven,  whose 
sin  is  covered  ;  happy  is  the  man  to  whom  the  Lord  imputeth  not 
iniquity  ;'  and  again, — '  Praise  the  Lord,  my  soul,  and  forget  not 
what  benefits  he  has  conferred  upon  thee  ;  he  forgiveth  all  thy  sins 
and  healeth  all  thine  infirmities.'  This  is  that  word  of  God,  which, 
since  '  the  word  of  reconciliation  hath  been  established  among  us', 
sounds  forth  continually  from  the  sacred  temple,  giving  consolation 
to  all  who  approach  God  with  humility  and  in  faith.  And  in- 
deed it  is  of  no  avail  for  a  man,  barely  once  for  all  to  shut 
himself  up  to  this  command  of  God ;  he  should  abase  himself 
for  every  particular  transgression ;  his  humility  beginning  with 
the  tears  of  repentance,  and  ending  with  the  tears  of  gratitude. 
Never  is  the  Christian  permitted,  after  truly  humbling  himself  before 
God,  to  go  away  from  the  divine  presence,  without  being  assured  of 
the  forgiveness  of  even  this  his  particular  transgression  ;  without 
cheerfulnes  in  his  humility.  Only  the  reconciled  heart  is  a  strong 
one. 

Come  then,  all  ye,  in  whose  eye  the  tear  hath  started  at  the 
recollection  of  good  purposes  without  good  deeds  ;  and  good  resolu- 


EARNEST  OF  ETERNAL  LIFE.  143 

tions  without  results,  come,  learn  the  power  which  lies  in  christian 

self-abasement ;  an  abasement  before  the  eye  of  God  and  in  the 
exercise  of  faith. 


SERMON  IV.i 

TESTIMONY  OF  OUR  ADOPTION  BY  GOD,  THE  SUREST  PLEDGE  OF 
ETERNAL  LIFE. 

We  have  to  day  a  solemn  memento  of  death  ;  we  keep  the  feast 
in  commemoration  of  the  dead.  We  have  this  memento  at  the  time 
when  nature  also  proclaims  the  same  truth  to  us.2  The  heavens  are 
invested  in  their  gray  attire  ;  the  fragrance  and  the  music  of  living 
nature  have  died  away ;  the  whole  creation  has  put  on  its  funeral 
robe,  and  in  this  solemn  vestment  preaches  to  thee, — as  it  were  the 
word  of  God, — Man,  thou  must  die  ! — Ah,  you  say  I  go  only  for  a 
little  while  into  a  silent  chamber,  and  when  the  lovely  spring  re- 
turns, I  shall  bloom  out  again.  Child  of  the  dust,  what  reason  hast 
thou  for  this  thy  faith  ?  I  know  what  you  will  adduce  as  a  reason  ; 
it  is  the  emblems  which  nature  exhibits  in  the  butterfly,  and  in  the 
swelling  germ  that  rises  up  in  sight  from  under  a  mantle  of  snow. — 
Have  you  ever  stood  by  the  death-bed  of  one  you  loved,  when  his 
altered  countenance  could  scarcely  be  recognized,  when  the  dim 
eye  gleamed  forth  but  faintly  from  its  deep  socket ;  when  the  ema- 
ciated hand  was  convulsively  clenched,  and  there  was  heard  the 
rattling  at  the  breast  ;  and  had  you  then  no  other  reason  for  your 
hope  of  immortality  than  was  afforded  by  these  symbols  in  nature  ? 
— Oh  then,  what  did  such  a  reason  avail  you!  Tour  hope  faded 
away  with  the  declining  pulse  of  your  dying  friend !  And  when 
you  yourself  shall  lie  on  your  dying  bed,  with  the  drops  of  death- 
sweat  on  your  brow,  and  friends  around  you,  waiting  for  your  last 
breath,  you  will  need  some  stronger  reason  for  your  hope  than  you 
can  draw  from  the  emblems  of  nature. 

1  For  an  Analysis  of  this  Sermon,  see  Note  I,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 
8  See  Note  K,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


144 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


But  I  see  your  finger  pointing  to  another  place ; — behold  the 
Prince  of  life  in  the  tomb  at  Golgotha;  how  he  rises  from  the 
grave,  how  the  burial  garments  fall  from  him,  and  himself  ascends 
to  his  Father  amid  the  glories  of  Heaven. — But  what  shall  we  say, 
when  even  in  this  assembly  may  be  found  men,  who  believe  that  he 
whom  we  adore  as  the  Prince  of  life,  did  not  rise  up  victoriously 
from  death,  but  only  from  an  oppressive  swoon  !  Such  men  have 
arisen  in  the*  christian  church, — and  yet  even  a  disciple  of  charity 
may  say,  4  they  are  not  of  us.' — From  these  men,  however,  I  turn 
my  attention  to  you,  who  have  not  ventured  to  doubt  the  truth  of 
what  is  said  in  our  apostle's  creed,  4  on  the  third  day  he  rose  from 
the  dead  — you  do  not  doubt  this,  but  do  you  believe  it  also  ?  Is 
this  resurrection  from  the  dead  so  certain  to  your  minds,  that  you 
could  lay  down  your  life  for  it  ? 

Christian  brethren,  no  one  believes,  with  a  truly  living  faith,  in 
the  resurrection  of  Christ  from  the  dead,  save  one  who  has  been 
raised  with  Christ  to  a  new  life.  No  one  believes,  that,  as  Inspira- 
tion says,  the  Father  has  in  truth  caused  his  holy  Jesus  to  burst  the 
bands  of  death,  save  one  who  himself  has  become  a  child  of  God. 
Wherefore  let  us  reflect  on  this  sentiment ;  44  The  testimony  that  we 
are  the  children  of  God  is  the  surest  pledge  of  eternal  life."  To 
this  reflection  are  we  led  by  the  words  of  the  apostle  which  we  find 
recorded  in  the  epistle  to  the  Romans,  Chap.  viii.  verses  15 — 17. 
44  Ye  have  not  received  the  spirit  of  a  servant,  that  ye  should  live 
again  in  fear  ;  but  ye  have  received  the  spirit  of  a  child,  whereby 
we  cry,  Abba,  dear  Father!  This  same  spirit  giveth  testimony  to 
our  spirits,  that  we  are  the  children  of  God.  If  we  are  children, 
then  are  we  heirs ;  heirs  of  God,  and  co-heirs  with  Christ." 

In  reference  to  this  expression  let  us  consider,  first,  how  the 
testimony  is  given  that  we  are  the  children  of  God  ;  secondly,  why 
this  testimony  is  a  pledge  of  eternal  life. — May  the  Spirit  of  God  be 
our  Teacher ! 

First,  how  is  the  testimony  given,  that  we  have  been  adopted  as 
the  children  of  God  ?  The  apostle  places  in  contrast  with  each 
other  the  spirit  of  a  servant,  and  the  spirit  of  a  child  ;  the  former 
trembles  the  latter  prays. — Let  us  consider  more  closely  the  spirit, 
that  trembles.  Israel  once  received  its  law  under  the  sound  of 
thunder,  amid  darkness  and  tempest.  These  appearances  in  nature 
were  necessary  to  give  a  people  who  were  slaves  to  sense,  a  proper 


EARNEST  OF  ETERNAL  LIFE. 


145 


view  of  the  dignity  of  the  law.  So  fearful  was  the  impression  of 
the  scene,  that  the  man  who  immediately  received  the  law,  stood 
and  cried  out, 4 1  tremble  and  am  terrified.'  And  after  the  tribes  of 
Israel  had  taken  possession  of  the  land  which  the  Lord  had  promised, 
they  stood,  with  mount  Gerizim  at  the  right,  and  mount  Ebal  at  the 
left,  and  the  curse  was  sounded  forth  against  every  transgressor  of 
the  law  of  God  ; — '  Cursed  be  he  who  does  not  fulfil  all  the  words 
of  this  law,  to  conduct  himself  according  to  them  ; — and  all  the 
people  said,  Amen.' — And  the  child  of  man,  who  now  surveys  the 
faults  which  he  has  committed  from  the  first  to  the  present  period 
of  his  life,  his  open  and  his  secret  sins  against  this  holy  law  ;  should 
he  not  tremble  ?  Whoever  you  are,  man,  you  have  a  Sinai  from 
which  you  have  received  the  law  of  God  ;  and  you  must  bow  down 
before  the  law  with  agitating  fear.  In  your  own  heart  is  established 
a  holy  legislation  ;  and  is  it  not  true  that  you  can  mention  the  hour, 
when  with  a  loud  sound  of  the  trumpet,  and  amid  tempest  and  dark- 
ness the  law  raised  its  voice  within  you,  so  that  you  could  not  help 
falling  on  your  knees  and  trembling  ?  And  would  you  suppress 
the  voice,  which  coming  from  flaming  Sinai  sounds  aloud  within 
your  spirit  ?  Even  if  you  would,  the  same  law  stands  recorded  in 
the  book  of  God ;  and  it  has  been  given  to  men  from  without,  as 
well  as  from  within,  so  that  the  external  voice,  which  man  cannot 
drown,  may  call  forth  the  voice  which  belongs  to  the  depth  of  his 
own  soul. 

And  how  is  it  with  you  ?  Have  you  experienced  this  trembling 
of  the  spirit  ?  How  large  the  number  of  those,  who  know  nothing 
of  it,  and  simply  because  they  have  been  strangers  to  this  fear, 
imagine  that  they  have  received  that  blessed  spirit  of  adoption,  of 
which  the  apostle  speaks  in  our  text !  Let  me  above  all  things  warn 
you  against  this  error. — Beloved,  not  the  man  who  is  a  stranger  to 
the  feeling  of  dread  at  the  sacred  voice  of  Jehovah,  not  the  man  who 
has  felt  neither  terror  nor  shame  before  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  not 
the  man  who  never  trembles,  but  the  man  who  prays,  is  the  child  of 
God.  A  melancholy  perversion  of  a  wholesome  truth  is  common  in 
our  day ;  hearing  as  we  do  from  so  many  the  negative  side  of  this 
truth,  that  the  Gospel  is  not  a  religion  of  precept ;  and  hearing  from 
so  few  the  other  important  side  of  it,  the  Gospel  is  a  religion  of 
prayer.  You  who  know  not  what  the  trembling  of  the  servant  is, 
if  you  also  know  not  what  the  praying  of  a  child  is,  then  you  are  not 
19 


146 


SERx^IONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


a  child,  you  are  not  even  a  servant ;  you  are  a  faithless,  truant 
slave, — a  rebel. 

Prayer  then  is  the  testimony  that  we  have  been  adopted  as  chil- 
dren of  God  :  not  every  kind  of  prayer,  however,  but  only  that 
which  comes  forth  from  the  depth  of  the  soul,  in  the  spirit  of — Dear 
Father !  Let  us  more  particularly  consider,  first,  how  this  prayer 
arises  from  the  depth  of  the  soul,  and  secondly,  how  it  expresses  itself. 

I.  '  That  mystery,'  as  the  apostle  calls  it,1  4  which  has  been  kept 
secret  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,1  is  the  truth,  which,  wherever 
it  has  been  preached  to  sorrowful  and  heavy-laden  souls,  elicits  prayer. 
It  is  the  gracious  purpose  of  God,  since  his  image  is  not  restored  in 
its  original  purity  to  any  of  our  race,  to  look  upon  them  who  believe 
in  the  holy  Son  of  his  love,  no  longer  as  they  are  in  themselves,  but 
as  they  appear  in  his  beloved  Son,  and  to  translate  them  into  the 
kingdom  of  their  Redeemer.2  The  apostle  calls  this  purpose  a 
mystery,  not  because  he  would  imply  that  it  now  remains  hidden 
from  the  souls  of  the  faithful,  but  because  no  mere  human  reason 
had  formed  any  conception  of  it,  until,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  it  was 
developed  as  a  truth.  And  yet  it  remains  not  the  less  mysterious 
to  you,  if  you  have  not  tasted  of  those  powers  of  the  world  to  come, 
which  lie  involved  in  it.3  The  wonders  of  grace  and  love,  which 
present  themselves  to  view  within  the  sanctuary,  it  is  difficult  to 
make  intelligible  to  those  who  stand  without  at  the  door.  As,  when 
you  bent  over  the  dear  person  of  a  father  that  you  loved,  you  even 
forgot  the  misconduct  of  your  erring  child  ;  and  while  your  eyes 
were  fastened  upon  the  countenance  of  your  kind  father's  image, 
you  threw  your  arms  around  your  unfaithful  child  and  blessed  him  ; 
— lo,  in  the  same  way  has  your  heavenly  Father  forgotten  that  you 
are  a  most  recreant  child.  When  you  have  thrown  yourself  into 
the  arms  of  the  Son  of  his  love,  and  cleaved  closely  to  his  heart, 
then  does  the  Father  no  more  look  upon  you  as  you  are  in  yourself, 
encompassed  with  all  your  sins,  enveloped  in  your  misery  ;  he  then 
loves  you  in  the  Son  of  his  love,  and  the  darkness  within  you  is 
irradiated  by  the  light  that  beams  from  his  countenance.  4  As  you 
are  in  yourself,1  says  the  heavenly  vine-dresser, — 4  you  are  a  wither- 
ed, useless  stalk  ;  but  lo,  if  you  will  become  a  branch  of  the  vine 
which  I  have  planted  for  myself,  then  shall  the  living  power  of  that 

1  Rom.  16:25.  2  Eph.  t:  6.  Col.  1:  13. 

J  See  Note  L,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


EARNEST  OF  ETERNAL  LIFE. 


147 


vine  diffuse  itself  through  you  ;  I  will  no  more  remember  what  you 
have  been,  a  dry  twig  ;  you  shall  bloom  and  grow  green  as  a  branch 
of  the  vine  of  Christ,  and  shall  bring  forth  much  fruit.' 

You  have  the  story  of  the  lost  son.  It  stands  recorded,  that  when 
he  went  back  to  his  father's  house,  the  father  saw  him  a  great  way 
off,  and  went  forth  to  meet  him,  and  stretched  out  his  arms  to  re- 
ceive him.  There  are  some  who  find  in  this  narrative  an  argument 
against  the  assertion  of  Scripture,  that  sinful  man  is  denied  all  access 
to  God  except  through  a  Mediator.1  But,  my  friends,  is  it  not  al- 
ways in  the  Son  of  his  love,  that  the  Father  goes  forth  to  meet  a 
penitent  transgressor  ?  Is  it  not  always  in  the  Son,  that  he  opens 
his  loving,  paternal  heart  ?  It  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  that  the  Father 
falls  upon  thy  neck,  that  he  carries  thee  home  to  the  feast  of 
joy.  Does  it  not  stand  recorded,  1  God  was  in  Christ,  when  he  re- 
conciled the  world  unto  himself?'2  As  then  the  penitent  is  in  Christ, 
and  Christ  in  God,  it  follows  that  the  very  person  who  is  to  be  re- 
conciled is  in  the  Being  who  reconciles  him.  Great  is  the  mystery, 
1  say  the  mystery  of  the  oneness  of  the  Father  with  the  Son. 

It  is  the  announcement  of  this  love,  which,  when  it  enters  through 
faith  the  afflicted  and  heavy-laden  heart,  calls  forth  the  instant  cry 
of  amazement  and  of  gratitude,  and  prompts  us  to  exclaim  with 
John, — 1  Behold  what  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  shown  us, 
that  we  should  be  called  his  own  children  !'3  That  love  of  God, 
which,  while  we  were  sinners,  was  exercised  toward  us,  is  shed 
abroad  in  our  hearts  ;  so  says  the  apostle.4  And  this  assurance  of 
having  received  the  love,  which  was  exercised  by  God  toward  us 
before  we  loved  him,  is  the  pledge  of  eternal  life  ;  it  is  the  signet, 
with  which  the  faithful  are  sealed  for  heaven.  Amazed  at  this 
grace  which  they  cannot  comprehend,  they  reiterate  the  exclama- 
tion which  was  made  by  John,  the  disciple  of  love, — 4  Now  are  we 
the  children  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be  !' 

2.  Having  shown  how  prayer,  which  is  the  testimony  of  our  having 
been  adopted  by  God,  is  prompted  in  the  soul,  let  us  next  inquire 
how  it  is  expressed.  All  that  can  be  said  on  this  subject,  the  apostle 
has  included  in  this  one  supplicatory  word,  which  illustrates  the 
nature  of  the  prayer; — dear  Father. — We  will  now,  therefore, 
definitely  ascertain  what  is  the  scriptural  idea  of  a  prayer.  Prayer 


2  2  Cor.  5:  19. 
4  Rom.  5:  5. 


148 


SF.RMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


is  the  pulsation  of  the  soul.  It  need  not  be  always  expressed  in 
words  ;  for  the  apostle  exhorts  Christians  to  pray  without  intermission.1 
But  if  the  prayer  must  necessarily  be  uttered  in  audible  language, 
how  could  Paul,  yea  how  could  Christ  himself  have  prayed  without 
intermission  ?  No,  my  friends.  There  is  a  prayer  which  the  faith- 
ful offer,  and  which  like  the  pulse  in  the  veins,  never  ceases  its 
motion,  not  by  night,  not  by  day,  and  which  can  be  heard  by  no 
human  ear.  In  this  inward  silent  supplication  are  the  faithful  con- 
tinually exclaiming,  Abba,  dear  Father !  How  is  it  with  you,  when 
some  beloved  friend  is  called  away  from  you  by  death  ?  Through  all 
the  hours  that  succeed  his  departure,  do  you  not  bear  him  constantly 
about  with  you  in  your  heart  ?  Yea,  are  you  not  wont  to  conduct  a 
silent,  uninterrupted  dialogue  with  him,  which  is  not  audible  to  the 
ear  of  a  companion  ?  So  it  is  with  the  ceaseless  prayer,  going  forth 
from  the  man  who  has  received  into  his  own  heart  the  testimony  of 
his  heavenly  adoption.  He  cannot  forget,  what  new  and  unmerited 
grace  has  been  bestowed  on  him  ;  he  cries  out  continually, — 6  See 
what  love  the  Father  hath  shown  us,  that,  1  we  should  be  styled  the 
children  of  God  f.  and  in  the  inmost  sanctuary  of  his  soul  the  words 
are  repeated  incessantly,  beloved  Parent !   precious  Father! 

But  as  the  conversation  which  a  man  silently  carries  on  with  him- 
self is  converted  into  audible  language,  as  soon  as  he  is  seized  with 
a  quickening  feeling  of  pain  or  of  joy,  so  likewise  is  the  converse 
which  a  man  silently  conducts  with  his  heavenly  parent.  When 
his  soul  is  actively  excited,  he  feels  compelled  to  employ  words. 
And  so  we  read  of  the  Saviour,  in  the  moment  of  his  deepest  pain 
he  cried  out,  Abba,  dear  Father  !2  And  all  that  the  heart  of  a  child 
of  God  has  to  say,  when  it  approaches  the  throne  of  grace,  yea  all 
is  comprehended  by  the  apostle  in  this  one  word,  dear  Father. — 
Dear  Father  !  So  cries  the  little  child,  when,  conscious  of  its  own 
guilt  and  ill  desert,  it  yet  receives  a  new  overflowing  of  its  parent's 
love,  and  sinks  down  on  its  knees,  weeping.  Dear  Father !  So 
cries  the  child,  when  full  of  trouble  it  folds  up  its  hands,  and 
would  fain  fly  into  its  parent's  bosom,  and  to  his  heart.  Dear 
Father  !  So  cries  the  same  child,  when  it  has  a  full  tide  of  joys,  and 
cannot  bear  to  keep  these  joys  for  itself  alone,  and  must  share  all 
the  treasures  of  its  heart  with  the  parent,  whom  it  loves. 


1  1  Thess.  5:  17. 


5  Mark  14:  36. 


EARNEST  OF  ETERNAL  LIFE. 


149 


Is  it  not  truly  a  blissful  image  ; — this  image  of  an  affectionate 
child  of  God  ?  Who  would  not  sigh  in  his  spirit,  and  exclaim,  Oh, 
that  I  were  such  an  image  !  But  do  not  fancy,  beloved,  that  it  is 
nothing  more  than  an  image.  Our  age  will  not  believe  the  Scrip- 
tures, when  they  describe  the  depth  of  human  corruption,  and  the 
greatness  of  human  misery ;  but  why  will  ye  not  believe  them, 
when  they  describe  the  wonders  of  the  grace  of  God  to  the  poor 
sinful  man,  who  has  faith  !  It  is  a  truth  ;  God  is  able  to  make  men 
thus  blessed  through  the  power  of  faith,  to  make  them  such,  even 
here,  if  they  be  obedient  to  the  word  of  his  grace.  He  has  made 
them  thus  blessed  ;  he  will  make  them  so  again.  Paul  and  John 
and  Peter  and  Luther  are  witnesses  of  what  he  has  done ;  and 
whosoever  of  you  has  a  longing  for  this  spirit, — the  door  of  the 
Lord  stands  open  to  you  all  the  time,  and  his  fountain  of  living 
water  is  always  full.  And,  beloved  brother,  as  you  call  to  mind 
that  brief  hour,  when  your  fitful  vision  will  survey  the  long  solitary 
path  stretching  onward  before  you, — a  path  along  which  none  of 
your  loved  ones  can  conduct  you,  and  of  which  you  do  not  know 
whether  or  not  it  will  lead  you  to  a  sweet  home  ;  as  you  think  of 
that  hour,  your  surest  pledge  for  the  eternity  before  you  is  the  evi- 
dence, that  you  may  have,  of  being  adopted  as  a  child  of  God. 

This  evidence  is  the  surest  pledge,  for  first,  you  are  no  longer 
flesh,  you  are  spirit ;  it  is  the  surest  pledge,  for  secondly,  whoever 
has  this  evidence,  has  already  been  translated  from  death  to  life. 

L  The  voice  came  to  the  prophet  and  said,  proclaim  !  He  asked, 
What  shall  I  proclaim  ?  And  the  voice  said, — All  flesh  is  grass, 
and  all  its  goodliness  as  the  flower  of  the  field.  My  friends,  the 
Scripture  speaks  very  diminutively  of  man.  Proud  mortal,  the 
name  which  the  word  of  God  giveth  thee  is,  flesh.  I  am  well  aware 
how  many  among  you  never  see  this  application  of  the  term  in  the 
Scriptures  without  repugnance  of  feeling,  but  will  you  charge  the 
sacred  oracle  with  a  misrepresentation  ? —  There  is  a  wonderful 
power  in  the  kingdom  of  nature  which  draws  down  every  particle 
of  matter  toward  one,  single,  mysterious,  central  point.  There  is 
the  concealed  operation  of  a  rigorous  power,  which  draws  down  the 
physical  man,  irresistibly,  to  the  central  point,  to  his  mother,  to  the 
earth. — But  man,  not  only  is  the  earth  thy  mother,  the  Father  of 
spirits  is  also  thy  Father.  There  is  another  resistless  power,  a 
power  full  of  mystery,  pervading  the  kingdom  of  spirit.    It  is  the 


150 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


power  of  love.  Every  thing  that  is  truly  spirit,  this  power  attracts 
to  a  spiritual,  central  point,  a  point  of  rest;  to  its  original,  to  the 
Father  of  spirits.  And  as  the  stone,  thrown  into  the  air,  does  not 
attain  its  resting  place  until  it  reaches  the  ground  from  which  it 
was  taken,  so  nothing,  which  can  be  properly  called  spirit,  is  able  to 
find  repose,  until  it  rests  in  the  central  point  of  the  world  of  spirits, 
in  God.1  All  ye,  who  are  here  assembled,  ye  future  priests  and 
administrators  of  the  mystery  of  the  Gospel,  are  ye — spirit  ?  If  ye 
are,  then  let  me  ask  you,  do  you  experience  this  great  attracting 
power  of  spirits  ?  Does  it  draw  you  without  intermission  to  the 
central  point  of  the  spiritual  world  ?  Can  you  find  no  rest  until  you 
find  it  in  God  ?  If  you  must  acknowledge  that  you  are  not  spirit ; 
if  the  concealed  attraction  of  earth  draws  down  your  heart  along 
with  your  body  to  the  dust ;  then  murmur  no  longer  because  the 
Bible  calls  you  flesh  ;  you  are  flesh. 

2.  Yet,  mortal,  however  deep  your  degradation  may  be,  as  repre- 
sented in  the  Gospel,  you  may  be  raised  as  high  as  you  have  sunk 
low.  Lift  up  your  hearts,  ye  who  love  the  Redeemer,  and  pray ; 
so  shall  ye  be  partakers,  through  Christ  Jesus,  of  the  divine  nature. 
The  sacred  oracles  assure  us  of  this ;  and  the  whole  plan  of  re- 
demption as  recorded  in  the  Gospel,  what  is  it,  but  a  plan  for  the 
elevation  of  human  nature  to  a  likeness  with  God  ?2  The  Spirit 
that  giveth  life  is  poured  forth  by  the  Prince  of  life  upon  flesh- 
ly natures,  and  Jesus  Christ  affirms,  lI  live,  and  ye  shall  live 
also.'  He  has  promised  to  his  faithful  ones, — 4 1,  and  the  Father 
will  come  unto  you  and  make  our  abode  with  you.' — And  shall  the 
mortal  man,  shall  the  fragile  tenement  in  which  both  the  Father  and 
the  Son  have  made  their  abode,  be  given  over  to  corruption  ?  Oh 
this  wonderful  testimony  within  the  faithful  heart ; — see,  that  which 
was  old  hath  passed  away  ;  everything  hath  become  new,  as  soon  as 
thou  art  loved  in  the  Son  of  God's  love  !  Who,  besides  the  Spirit 
of  God,  could  leave  such  a  testimony  within  the  breast  of  man? 
The  same  conscience  which  condemns  thee  can  never  acquit  thee. 
It  is  the  Spirit  of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son,  which  implants  the 
conviction  within  thee,  that  thou  art  one  with  them. — '  Where  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  freedom  — such  freedom  as  bursts 

1  For  a  further  illustration  of  the  power  of  christian  love,  see  Note  M,  at 
the  close  of  the  Sermons. 
3  See  Note  N,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


EARNEST  OF  ETERNAL  LIFE. 


151 


the  bars  of  death,  and  cries, — 4  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  r  Here 
you  have  the  key  to  that  mysterious  passage  of  the  Redeemer,  in 
which  he  declares,  4  The  hour  is  coming  and  has  come  already, 
when  the  dead  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  man,  and  they  who 
hear  shall  live.'1  Yea  it  has  come  already,  it  is  now, — the  resurrec- 
tion from  the  dead ;  for  wherever  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is 
the  seed  planted  of  an  unending  life. 

4  Your  body,'  says  the  apostle, 4  is  indeed  dead  on  account  of  sin  ; 
but  the  spirit  is  life  on  account  of  righteousness.  If  now  the  Spirit  of 
him  who  hath  raised  Jesus  from  the  dead  dwelleth  in  you,  then  the 
same  Being  who  hath  raised  Christ  from  the  dead,  also  giveth  life  to 
your  mortal  bodies,  for  the  very  reason  that  his  Spirit  dwelleth  in 
you.'2  The  Spirit  which  the  Lord  pours  out  upon  his  own,  is  the 
same  by  which  he  has  overcome  death  ;  and  the  same  Spirit  tri- 
umphs over  death  in  us  also  ;  and  our  frail  tabernacles  it  will  build 
anew,  and  invest  them  with  glories  like  the  glories  of  the  body  of 
Jesus.  Wherefore,  elevated  as  no  mere  mortal  ever  was,  the  Sa- 
viour stands  and  cries, — 4  Whoso  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die  ; 
he  hath  been  translated  from  death  to  life  V  Has  it  already  been 
your  experience,  beloved,  that  you  have  tasted  of  all  joys  and  have 
found  none  of  which  you  can  say,  these  will  satisfy  me  forever  ? 
Your  experience  of  the  vanity  of  this  world's  good,  has  been  as  it 
should  be.  There  is  only  one  kind  of  joy,  in  which  the  soul  is  in- 
terested, and  of  which  I  never  become  weary.  This  is  the  joy  and 
the  peace  which  the  testimony  of  our  adoption  by  God  brings  with 
it.  Oh  ye,  who  are  yet  afar  off,  believe  it,  there  are,  yea  there  are, 
in  the  life  of  the  faithful  Christian,  not  only  minutes  and  hours,  there 
are  days  and  months  and  years,  which  he  could  wish  to  be  prolonged 
to  all  eternity,  and  he  would  never  be  weary  of  them.  There  is  a 
richness  in  these  periods,  and  a  fullness  in  them,  a  life  and  a  still- 
ness, an  activity  and  a  deep  repose,  and  a  steadiness,  which  fills  the 
whole  soul,  and  which  no  one  can  adequately  understand,  but  one 
who  has  felt  them.  And  the  voice  of  the  faithful  Christian  bears 
audible  testimony, — 4  We  have  tasted  of  the  good  word  of  God, 
and  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come.'  In  what  they  already  enjoy 
here  below,  they  have  a  foretaste  of  the  future  world. 

1  John  5:  25.   See  Note  O,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 

2  Rom.  8:  10,  11. 


152 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLTJCK. 


From  this  you  will  understand  why,  in  our  text,  the  children  of 
God  are  called  heirs  of  God  ;  and  why  the  Spirit,  which  is  imparted 
to  them,  is  called  the  surety  of  the  future  inheritance.  The  apostle 
says  in  the  subsequent  context,  that  they  who  have  faith  have  re- 
ceived the  first  fruits  of  the  Spirit.  Now  the  first  fruits  of  a  harvest 
are  followed  by  the  full  harvest.  In  these  first  fruits  Christians  are 
fully  assured,  how  rich  a  harvest  is  preserved  for  them  in  heaven, 
when  they  shall  behold  in  glory,  what  they  now  hope  for  in  weak- 
ness. But  so  long  as  you  remain  destitute  of  that  degree  of  faith,  by 
which  you  may  taste  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come ;  so  long, 
Christians,  as  you  are  not  made  happy  men  by  the  power  of  your 
faith, — tell  me,  how  can  you  explain  the  words  of  your  Redeemer, 
when  he  says  that  '  the  man,  who  has  faith,  has  already  pressed 
through  death  and  has  passed  unto  life  ?n  Tell  me,  does  there  not 
appear  to  be  a  sacred  intimation,  in  these  words  of  Jesus,  that  the 
idea  of  faith  involves  something  more,  decidedly  more,  than  that  poor 
and  starveling  principle,  which  is  all  that  your  experience  compre- 
hends ?  But  whoever  of  you  in  this  christian  assembly  can  say,  we  have 
felt  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come,  since  we  have  exercised  faith ; 
we  have  experienced  the  first  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  which  will  one  day 
be  followed  by  the  whole  harvest ;  we  have  been  sealed  by  the 
Holy  Spirit  of  promise,  and  have  thus  received  an  earnest  of  our 
heavenly  inheritance  ;  whoever  can  say  this,  to  you  heaven  is  secure 
beyond  a  doubt.  Ye  happy  ones,  to  you  there  remaineth  not  a 
solitary  doubt,  that  heaven  shall  be  your  home.  When  the  hour 
shall  arrive,  that  last  hour,  when  they  who  love  you  shall  surround, 
with  tearful  eyes,  your  dying  bed,  then,  oh  ye  happy  ones,  ye  shall 
need  no  consolation  from  others ;  a  consolation  strong  and  clear 
shall  spring  up  from  the  deeps  of  your  own  breast ;  your  eye  shall 
look  upward  steady  and  serene,  and  your  last  word  shall  be, — '  I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth.' 

And  now  tell  me,  ye  who  have  never  received  this  surest  pledge 
of  eternal  life,  have  you  indeed  no  knowledge  of  it  ?  How  then 
will  you  stand  up  in  the  last  struggle  ?  He  who  knows  nothing  by 
experience  of  the  grace  of  Christ,  is  represented  by  Luther  as  re- 
peating this  stanza : 

1  John  5:  24.    See  also  1  John  3:  14. 


EARNEST  OF  ETERNAL  LIFE. 


153 


I  live,  but  ah  !  how  long, 

1  do  not,  cannot  know  ; 

1  die,  but  know  not  when, 

Nor  whither  I  shall  go  : 

Why  then,  I  ask  with  wonder,  why 

Do  I  thus  live  in  ease  and  joy  ? 

You  on  the  contrary,  who,  through  the  grace  of  God,  feel  warranted 
jn  saying  of  yourself, — '  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed,' — why 
will  you  remain  downcast  and  fearful  ?  Whoever  has  received  such 
a  pledge  of  eternal  life  as  you  have,  is  entitled,  says  Luther,  to  sing, 

I  live,  and  1  can  tell 

How  long  my  life  will  last ; 

1  die,  and  know  full  well, 

When  Jordan  will  be  passed  ;l 

How  1  shall  die  and  whither  go 

The  Lord  hath  made  me  clearly  know  : 

Why  then,  1  ask  with  wonder,  why 

In  sadness  do  I  droop  and  die  ? 

In  harmony  with  these  sentiments,  I  will  close  my  discourse  to 
day,  this  feast-day  for  the  dead,  with  two  questions.  To  you,  who 
bear  about  in  your  breast  no  earnest  of  future  bliss,  and  have  no 
protector,  standing  ready  to  intercede  for  you  at  the  judgment ;  to 
you  I  put  the  query,  4  Friend,  how  can  you  live  in  ease  and  joy  ?' 
But  to  you,  who  have  obtained  pardon  ;  to  whom  God  hath  given 
through  Christ  Jesus  the  first  fruits  of  his  Spirit,  for  a  pledge  of 
eternal  life  ;  to  you  who  can  say  in  faith, 4 1  know  that  my  Redeem- 
er liveth  I  put  the  question,  4  Why  do  you  droop  in  sadness  so 
often  and  so  deeply  ?' 

May  the  Spirit  of  God  be  shed  abroad  in  us  all  more  and  more 
richly ;  and  in  him  and  through  him,  may  we  all  receive  the  cheer- 
ing testimony,  that  we  are  the  adopted  children  of  God  in  Christ 
Jesus ! 2 

1  I  know  when  I  shall  die,  for  I  die  every  day,  and  every  hour  to  the 
world. 

2  See  Note  P,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 

20 


154 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


SERMON  V.i 

THE  REPENTANCE  AND  PARDON  OF  THE  THIEF  ON  THE  CROSS. 

The  words  which  will  lead  our  devotions  to-day,  are  found  re- 
corded in  Luke  23:  39 — 43.  "  But  one  of  the  malefactors  which 
were  hanged  with  him,  reviled  him,  saying, — 4  If  thou  be  Christ, 
save  thyself  and  us.'  Then  the  other  answered  and  reproved  him, 
saying, — '  Dost  thou  not  fear  God,  since  thou  also  art  in  the  same 
condemnation  ?  And  we  indeed  are  justly  in  it,  for  we  have  received 
what  our  deeds  deserve ;  but  this  man  hath  done  nothing  amiss.' 
And  he  said  to  Jesus, — '  Lord,  think  on  me,  when  thou  comest  in 
thy  kingdom.'  And  Jesus  said  unto  him,—'  Verily  I  say  unto  thee, 
this  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise." 

A  narration,  rich  in  all  kinds  of  edifying  thought.  We  will  first 
inquire,  what  the  passage  contains  that  may  elevate  our  spirits ; 
secondly,  what,  that  may  abash  them  ;  thirdly,  what  it  contains  that 
is  apt  to  be  misunderstood  ;  fourthly,  what,  that  is  fitted  to  console. 

First,  then,  we  will  inquire  what  the  passage  contains  that  may 
elevate  our  spirits.  He  who  once  commanded  the  waves  in  a  storm, 
hath  been  brought  down  low  to  the  dust.  In  him  hath  been  fulfilled 
the  ancient  prophecy, — '  He  was  of  all  men  the  mcst  despised  and 
scorned ;  full  of  sorrows  and  sicknesses  ;  he  was  so  despised  that 
we  hid  our  faces  from  him.2  They  have  scourged  him  on  the  back  ; 
they  have  spit  upon  him,  even  in  his  Godlike  face  ;  they  have 
smitten  his  kingly  head  with  a  reed  ;  they  have  erected  his  cross 
between  two  malefactors ;  they  have  stripped  him  of  his  garments 
and  left  him  nothing  but  his  crown.  Scourged,  spit  upon,  smitten, 
naked  and  crowned  with  thorns,  there  he  hangs ; — and  yet,  even 
under  his  cross,  a  sea  of  malice  is  foaming  up  with  invective  against 
him.  Oh  it  has  contained  a  fearful  truth,  that  old  prophetic  word, — 
1 1  am  poured  out  like  water  ;  all  my  bones  are  out  of  joint ;  my 
heart  is  in  my  body  like  melted  wax  ;  my  strength  is  dried  up  like 
an  earthen  vessel ;  my  tongue  cleaveth  to  my  jaws  ;  thou  hast  placed 
me  in  the  dust  of  death.'3 

1  For  an  Analysis  of  this  Sermon,  see  Note  Q.  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 
5  Isaiah  53:  3.  3  Psalm  22:  14,15. 


THE  PENITENT  THIEF. 


155 


Have  you  considered,  what  a  startling  confirmation  was  given 
this  last  hour  of  the  Lord's  sorrow,  to  the  great  truth  that  sin,  even 
in  the  most  terrific  revolt  from  God,  must  yet  serve  him?  Can 
your  most  daring  fancy  form  for  itself  any  image,  by  which  the  idea 
of  the  God-like  could  more  deeply  agitate  your  souls,  or  penetrate 
them  with  a  holier  sorrow,  than  is  done  by  this  image  which  a  Sa- 
viour's passion  presents  ? — by  this  man  of  pain,  his  bleeding  shoul- 
ders covered  with  purple,  the  reed  in  his  hand,  the  crown  of  thorns 
upon  his  head  ?  Has  ingenuity  ever  succeeded  in  devising  a  more 
sacred  form,  one  which  united  greater  contrarieties  of  abasement 
and  majesty,  one  in  which  abasement  bore  upon  itself  such  heavenly, 
significant  and  noble  symbols?  And  did  this  rude  insolence  of  the 
Roman  soldiers  and  of  the  servants  of  Herod, — an  insolence  which 
was  the  occasion  of  your  now  beholding  such  an  image  of  the  Sa- 
viour,— an  image  which,  for  hundreds  of  years,  has  been  one  of 
holy  consolation  to  all  heavy  laden  hearts, — did  this  rude  insolence, 
I  ask,  take  place  through  the  mere  play  of  accident  ?  Oh  tell  me, 
have  you  anywhere  in  history  a  single  example,  which  more  clearly 
demonstrates  the  existence  of  a  power  above  the  clouds,  into  whose 
handjhe  threads  from  all  men's  hearts  and  arms  run  together,  at 
.  whose  nod  even  the  loose  play  of  chance  arranges  itself  into  the 
regular  chain  of  a  sacred,  everlasting  law  embracing  earth  and 
heaven  ?  It  is  this  sublime  sentiment,  which  is  awakened  in  our 
minds  by  the  history  contained  in  our  text.  That  cross  which  they 
have  erected  for  him  between  the  malefactors, — they  have  erected 
it  for  him  as  a  kingly  throne  !  Behold  !  the  King  of  glory  on  his 
throne  !  The  crown  adorns  his  brow.  His  arms  are  stretched  out 
to  embrace  the  whole  world,  and  place  it  at  his  heart.  Above  the 
throne  shines  the  regal  title, — '  This  is  Jesus,  the  King  of  the  Jews.' 
At  the  right  and  the  left  are  the  two  great  divisions  of  the  world  ;  at 
the  left  the  unbelieving  world,  who  revile  him  ;  at  the  right,  the 
converted  world,  who  do  him  homage  ;  and-  he  himself  is  between 
them,  imparting  blessedness  to  the  one,  punishment  to  the  other, 
bending  from  his  throne  to  open  the  gates  of  paradise  for  the  peni- 
tent transgressor.  Of  a  truth,  there  is  in  this  spectacle  an  inward 
greatness  and  sublimity,  against  which  no  heart  of  man  can  harden 
itself;  and  even  from  the  lips  of  an  unbeliever,  the  instant  he  turned 


156 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLTJCK. 


his  mind  to  the  spectacle  and  considered  it,  there  was  forced  out  the 
expression  of  astonishment, — '  Truly  this  was  the  Son  of  God  !' 

But  secondly,  there  is  something  contained  in  the  text,  which  may 
abash  our  spirits.  Christians,  you  should  learn, — yea  verily,  you 
should  learn  self-abasement  from  a  malefactor  ;  a  malefactor  who 
was  nailed  upon  the  cross.  Refuse  not  the  lesson  from  this  man. 
If  you  will  not  receive  it  from  him,  he  will  pass  sentence  upon  you"; 
pass  sentence,  as  the  Redeemer  said  of  the  queen  of  the  South, — 
'  She  shall  rise  at  the  last  judgment  against  this  generation  and  shall 
condemn  it ;  for  she  came  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  hear  the 
wisdom  of  Solomon,  and  a  greater  than  Solomon  is  here.' 

What  a  wonderful  appearance, — this  malefactor  at  the  right  hand  ! 
When  the  God-like  man  stood,  and  lifted  up  his  face  to  heaven,  and 
cried, — 4  Father,  glorify  thy  name,'  and  the  voice  came  from  the 
clouds, — 4  I  have  glorified  it  and  will  glorify  it  again  when  he 
stood,  and  placed  his  hand  upon  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  so  that  they 
saw,  and  upon  the  ears  of  the  deaf,  so  that  they  heard  ;  when  he 
entered  into  the  royal  city,  and  the  people  cried  aloud, — 4  Hosanna 
to  the  Son  of  David,  blessed  be  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord,'  then  many  were  able  to  doubt  concerning  him  whether  he 
were  a  King.  But  now,  when  he  lets  his  bruised  and  bleeding  head 
sink  down  upon  the  ignominious  tree  ;  when  the  heaven  over  his 
head  veils  itself  in  clouds ;  when  instead  of  the  celestial  voice  from 
above,  no  words  come  to  him  but  those  of  hell  from  beneath, — 4  He 
hath  saved  others  and  cannot  save  himself  ;  when  the  hands  which 
were  once  placed  upon  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  upon  the  breast  of  the 
leper,  and  upon  the  head  of  the  little  child,  blessing  everywhere  and  in 
all  ways,  are  now  nailed  to  the  cursed  wood  ;  when  the  same  people, 
who  once  cried  4  Hosanna,'  are  exclaiming, — 4  If  thou  art  the  Son  of 
God,  come  down  from  the  cross  ;'  even  at  this  time,  the  eye  of  the  re- 
penting sinner  sees  the  King  in  Jesus,  and  as  his  knee  can  no  longer 
bow  to  him,  the  heart  bows  before  him  in  adoration  and  lowliness. 

Friends,  do  you  consider  what  a  strength  of  faith  was  requisite,  at 
that  juncture,  for  the  act  of  believing,  that  a  man,  nailed  to  the  cross, 
was  yet  a  King  ;  and  that  before  his  44  Epphatha,  be  opened,"1  even 
the  gates  of  paradise  must  be  unclosed  to  a  repenting  malefactor? 
From  what  vapor,  men  have  asked,  could  such  a  hope  have  been 
born  at  such  an  hour  ? 

1  Mark  7:  34. 


THE  PENITENT  THIEF. 


157 


Perhaps  the  malefactors,  who  were  crucified  with  him,  saw  the 
man,  when  he  stood  without  an  equal  even  before  the  court ;  and 
when  Pilate  led  him  forth,  covered  with  blood,  a  spectacle  to  angels 
and  to  men  ;  and  presenting  him  to  the  people  cried  out, — '  Behold, 
what  a  man !'  They  certainly  saw  him  walk  along  the  tedious  way 
through  the  city,  from  the  place  of  judgment  to  the  place  of  blood  ; 
he  walked  in  silent  sorrow,  till  he  fainted  under  the  burden  of  his 
cross.  They  heard  him,  when  he  said  to  the  weeping  daughters  of 
Jerusalem, — '  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me,  but  weep 
for  yourselves,  and  your  children.'  They  certainly  lent  him  their 
ears,  and  looked  upon  his  face,  as  with  them  he  raised  his  pain- 
burdened  head,  and  cried  out,  under  his  crown  of  thorns, — 4  Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  — yea,  as  we  con- 
jecture, they  beheld  at  that  instant,  and  in  that  face,  a  spectacle,  the 
like  to  which  no  mortal  hath  ever  witnessed. 

But  friends,  did  net  both  of  the  crucified  men  behold  the  same  ? 
Why  did  the  invective  ascend  from  one  heart,  while  the  other  pre- 
sented homage  ?  It  was  his  perception  of  his  own  moral  need, 
which  gave  to  the  relenting  thief  so  clear  a  view  of  the  afflicted  yet 
royal  personage  at  his  side.  The  beams,  which  radiated  from  the 
noble  fellow-sufferer,  beams  that  impregnate  the  spirit ;  it  was  these, 
that  by  little  and  little  melted  away  the  ice  of  the  heart  that  was  be- 
numbed by  sin.  Hear  ye  not  from  his  mouth  such  words  as  the  fol- 
lowing ? — "  And  indeed  we  are  justly  in  the  condemnation,  for  we 
have  received  what  our  sins  deserve  ; — but  that  noble  personage,  who 
suffers  in  such  a  way, — he  cannot  be  a  deceiver.  When  he  bore 
witness  of  himself,  that  he  held  in  his  hand  the  keys  of  heaven  and 
of  the  abyss,  he  spoke  the  truth. — Yet,  how  in  a  hand  that  was 
pierced  through,  could  the  key  of  heaven  lie  ?  And  a  head  that 
was  pale  in  death,  shall  it  wear  the  crown  of  majesty  ?  It  is  not 
possible  !  And  yet  it  is  possible  !" — In  this  way  does  faith  struggle 
with  doubt  in  the  agonized  heart,  until  faith  triumphs,  and  the  man 
exclaims,  4  Lord,  think  of  me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom.' 

Brethren,  could  he.  believe  and  adore,  who  saw  nothing  but  the 
crown  of  thorns,  and  the  pierced  hand,  and  the  running  blood,  and 
the  death-sweat  under  the  thorns  upon  the  kingly  brow ;  could  he 
believe,  that  this  man  uttered  no  falsehood  when  he  testified  that  the 
keys  of  heaven  and  of  the  abyss  lay  in  his  pierced  hand  ? — and  will 
you  doubt,  you  who  have  lived  to  know  of  the  ascension  morning, 


158 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


which  burst  open  the  grave  of  rock,  and  brought  up  the  mighty 
dead,  as  the  Prince  of  life  ?  And  will  you  doubt,  who  have  lived  to 
know  of  the  ascension  morning,  which  raised  the  Prince  of  life  to 
the  throne  of  majesty  ?  And  will  you  doubt,  who  have  seen  his 
invisible  sceptre  guide  his  church  through  more  than  a  thousand 
years,  and  have  beheld  the  seed-corn,  which  was  planted  in  the 
dark  night  with  tears,  grow  up  to  a  tree,  under  the  shadow  whereof 
the  fowls  of  the  air  take  lodging  ? — Brethren,  Christ  has  said  that 
the  queen  of  the  South  shall  condemn  the  children  of  this  generation, 
for  she  came  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  hear  the  wisdom  of 
Solomon  :  Verily,  you  who  can  doubt  whether  the  keys  of  heaven 
and  of  the  abyss  lie  in  that  pierced  hand,  the  thief  on  the  cross  shall 
be  your  condemning  judge.1 

But  let  us  see  in  the  third  place,  brethren,  what  this  history  ex- 
hibits that  is  apt  to  be  misunderstood. 

Is  it  then  a  fact,  I  hear  you  inquire,  can  the  last  spasmodic  breath, 
with  which  the  profligate  breast  is  able  to  utter  a  1  God  have  mercy 
on  me,'  drown  in  silence  the  loud  cry  of  a  long,  vicious  life  for 
vengeance  ?  Is  it  a  fact,  that  there  are  no  blood  spots  so  dark,  and 
so  great,  that  they  cannot  be  washed  away  by  that  solitary  tear, 
which  falls  from  the  glassy  eye  of  a  dying  sinner  ?  Oh  happy  me  ! 
so  let  me  drink  deeper  of  it,  the  intoxicating  cup  of  pleasure ; — I 
had  only  moistened  my  lips  at  its  very  brim  !  Oh  happy  me  !  Do 
I  then  have  my  portion  in  both  worlds ;  the  joys  of  salvation  and  of 
the  present  life  ?  Let  me  first  pluck  the  chequered,  the  sweet  poi- 
son-flowers in  the  garden  of  time,  ere  I  hasten  to  your  spotless  lilies, 
which  bloom  in  the  garden  of  your  eternity  ! 

Look  at  this  !  how  the  brightness  of  heaven,  which  lies  over  the 
spectacle  that  we  are  contemplating,  is  changed  into  the  yellow 
reflection  of  hell,  for  our  blinded,  diseased  eyes  !  It  is  true,  we  have 
a  religion,  which  teaches  that  in  the  very  interval  of  death,  between, 
as  it  were,  the  lightning's  flash  and  its  stroke,2  there  is  time  to  secure 
salvation.  We  have  a  Scripture  that  proclaims, 1  Where  sin  hath 
abounded,  grace  abounds  still  more.'  We  have  a  Saviour,  whom 
the  poet  fitly  represents  as  saying, — '  Whoever  devotes  himself  to 
me  as  my  servant,  I  choose  him  as  my  bride  ;  and  the  sin  which  his 

1  See  a  further  illustration  of  christian  faith,  in  Note  R,  at  the  close  of  the 
Sermons. 

*  Between  the  lightning  of  death  and  its  thunder. 


THE  PENITENT  THIEF. 


159 


heart  repents  of,  I  look  upon  as  having  never  been  committed.'' 
And  should  you  wonder  at  this  ?  To  believe, — with  a  bruised  heart 
to  believe, — what  is  it  either  more  or  less  than  to  open  the  door  of 
the  soul  ?  When  there  was  no  penitence  and  faith,  this  door  was 
shut ;  the  Saviour  knocked,  but  it  was  not  opened.  When  however 
it  is  once  opened,  does  he  not  enter  the  soul,  and  with  the  Father 
take  up  his  abode  therein  ?  Does  there  not  enter  with  him,  the 
Spirit  of  discipline  and  of  pardon,  whose  work  it  is  to  convert  the 
heart  of  man  into  a  temple  of  God  ?  The  kingdom  of  God  then 
with  all  its  treasures  is  within  such  a  soul,  and  will  you  shut  the 
door  of  heaven  upon  it,  and  leave  it  without  ? 

The  blind  man,  who  as  he  rushes  upon  the  precipice  is  suddenly 
restored  to  sight,  and  who  with  lifted  arms  and  joyful  thanksgiving 
springs  back  from  the  abyss,  seizes  and  kisses  the  good  hand  that 
touched  his  eyes,  and  will  never  more  let  it  go, — will  you  make  no 
distinction  between  this  blind  man,  and  such  an  one  as  will  not  re- 
ceive the  kind  hand  that  was  about  to  touch  his  eye-lids,  but  thrusts 
it  back,  until — a  more  convenient  season  ? — Blind  man  !  and  how 
do  you  know  that  the  hand  will  ever  come  to  you  again  ?  Do  you 
suppose,  that  it  will  come  to  you  just  as  soon  as  you  will  to  become 
penitent,  to  shed  tears  of  contrition,  to  exercise  faith  ?  Oh  brethren, 
— so  perhaps  many  of  you  may  have  already  experienced,  these 
holiest  of  all  tears,  they  flow  not  barely  when  the  man  wills  to  have 
them.  Have  you  not  heard  of  the  judicial  obduracy  which  comes 
over  those,  who  turn  the  grace  of  God  into  licentiousness  ?  Believe 
me ;  in  the  inward  life  of  the  sinner,  to  whom  the  grace  of  God 
would  give  the  sighings  of  repentance,  and  the  tears  of  contrition, 
and  the  blessedness  of  faith,  but  he  will  not  receive  the  gift, — there 
will  come  to  him  hours  of  slumbering,  when  the  breast  shall  heave 
no  more  sighs,  the  eye  shall  shed  no  more  tears,  and  the  hands, 
though  they  shall  fold  themselves  convulsively,  yet  shall  not  be  able 
to  extort  a  prayer  ;  when  the  anchor  of  longing  desire,  thrown  out 
on  all  sides,  shall  find  no  bottom  to  which  it  may  cleave.  Be  not 
deceived,  God  will  not  be  mocked  !  Oh  the  Holy  Spirit  which  in- 
viteth  man  to  repentance  is  a  tender  Spirit, — once  sent  away,  he 
comes  back  again— reluctantly  and  rarely.  Of  them  who  do  evil, 
so  that  good  may  come,  the  word  of  truth  testifies,  their  4  damnation 
is  entirely  just.'1 

1  Rom.  3:  8. 


160  SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 

But  let  us  in  the  last  place,  my  friends,  consider  the  rich  consola- 
tion, which  this  passage  of  sacred  writ  exhibits  to  us. 

Sinner,  while  thou  standest  this  side  the  grave,  it  is  never  too  late 
for  thy  repentance, — this  is  the  sacred  comfort  which  springs  forth 
from  the  words  of  the  Redeemer  on  the  cross. 

'  It  is  too  late  P  Oh  word  of  terror  which  has  already  fallen  like 
the  thunder  of  God  upon  many  a  heart  of  man! — See  that  father, 
as  he  hastens  from  the  burning  house,  and  thinks  that  he  has  taken 
all  his  children  with  him ;  he  counts,  one  dear  head  is  missing  ; 
he  hastens  back, — 4  It  is  too  late  I1  is  the  hollow  sound  that  strikes  his 
ear  ;  the  stone  wall  tumbles  under  the  roaring  torrent  of  flame,  he 
swoons  and  sinks  to  the  ground. — Who  is  that  hastening  through  the 
darkness  of  the  night  on  the  winged  courser  ?  It  is  the  son,  who 
has  been  wandering  in  the  ways  of  sin,  and  now  at  last  longs  to  hear 
from  the  lips  of  his  dying  father  the  word,  '  I  have  forgiven  you.' 
Soon  he  is  at  his  journey's  end,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  he  is 
at  the  door,—'  It  is  too  late,1  shrieks  forth  the  mother's  voice,  '  that 
mouth  is  closed  forever  !'  and  he  sinks  fainting  into  her  arms. — See 
that  victim  for  the  scaffold  ;  and  the  executioner,  whetting  the 
steel  of  death.  The  multitude  stand  shivering  and  dumb.  Who  is 
just  heaving  in  sight  on  yonder  distant  hill,  beckoning  with  signs  of 
joy  ?  It  is  the  king's  express  ;  he  brings  a  pardon  !  Nearer  and 
nearer  comes  his  step  :  Pardon  !  resounds  through  the  crowd — softly 
at  first,  and  then  louder  and  yet  louder.  '  It  is  too  late  V  the 
guilty  head  has  already  fallen ! — Yea,  since  the  earth  has  stood,  the 
heart  of  many  a  man  has  been  fearfully  pierced  through  by  the 
cutting  words,  1  It  is  too  late.1  But  oh,  who  will  describe  to  me 
the  lamentation  that  will  arise,  when  at  the  boundary  line  which 
parts  time  from  eternity,  the  voice  of  the  righteous  Judge  will  cry, 
4  It  is  too  late  I1  Long  have  the  wide  gates  of  heaven  stood  open, 
and  its  messengers  have  cried  at  one  time  and  another, — To  day, 
to  day,  if  ye  will  hear  his  voice  !  Man,  man,  how  then  will  it  be 
with  you,  when  once  these  gates,  with  appalling  sound,  shall  be  shut 
for  eternity  !  "  Agonize  that  you  may  enter  in  at  the  narrow  gate  ; 
for  many,  I  say  unto  you,  shall  strive  to  enter  in,  and  shall  not  be 
able.  When  once  the  master  of  the  house  hath  arisen  and  shut  the 
door,  then  shall  ye  begin  to  stand  without,  and  to  knock  at  the  door, 
and  to  say, — '  Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  us,1  and  he  will  answer  and 
^ay  unto  you, '  I  know  you  not,  whence  ye  are.11 


THE  SPECIAL  PRESENCE  OF  GOD. 


161 


But,  my  friends,  the  more  appalling  the  truth  is,  that,  at  the  divid- 
ing line  between  time  and  eternity,  the  sentence  will  be  proclaimed, — 
'  It  is  too  late ;'  so  much  the  more  consoling  is  the  word,  flowing 
down  to  us  from  the  cross  of  Jesus, — Sinner,  while  thou  standest  on 
this  side  the  grave,  it  is  never  too  late. — 4  Therefore  let  us  fear,' 
cries  an  apostle  to  us,  4  lest  we  should  slight  the  promise  of  entering 
into  his  rest,  and  some  one  of  us  remain  behind ; — to  day,  if  ye  will 
hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts.'  Whether  the  voice  of  thy 
God  will  come  to  thee  again  and  search  thee  out, — this  thou  knowest 
not;  but  whatever  may  lie  behind  thee,  whether  nights  of  the  dark- 
est error,  whether  mountains  of  sin, — thou  distinctly  hearest  to  day 
his  proclamation, — '  It  is  not  too  late  P 


SERMON  VI. i 

THE  PRESENCE  OF  GOD  WITH  HIS  CHILDREN. 

To-day,  beloved  in  Christ,  I  turn  my  attention  to  one  particular 
class  of  hearers ;  not  to  those  among  you  who  are  secure  and  at 
ease  in  the  way  to  death,  nor  to  those  who  enjoy  peace  and  blessed- 
ness in  the  way  to  life  ;  but  to  you,  unhappy  men,  who  hang  between 
heaven  and  earth ;  who  cannot  die,  and  cannot  live ;  whom  the 
earth  will  not  leave  unmolested,  and  whom  heaven  will  not  accept. 
It  is  a  fearful  state  when,  in  the  heart  that  was  created  for  God,  the 
world  and  Satan  reign,  and  yet  the  man  can  pass  on  in  presumptuous 
confidence,  and  say  to  himself  and  to  others, — I  have  peace,  all 
goes  well.  But  you  will  say,  it  is  a  condition  still  more  fearful, 
when  one  looks  at  the  opened  heaven  above  him,  full  of  grace  and 
truth,  and  yet  cannot  break  loose  from  the  pollutions  of  earth  ;  when 
he  is  thus  the  prey  of  two  conflicting  powers.  Many  supposing  this 
latter  state  to  be  worse  than  that  of  careless  sin,  make  no  attempt  to 
wake  themselves  from  the  slumber  of  death,  but  press  down  their 
eyelids  so  much  the  closer,  that  they  may  sleep  the  more.    But  let 


1  For  an  Analysis  of  this  Sermon,  see  Note  S,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermon, 
21 


162 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


us  see  which  of  the  two  states  is  the  more  fearful.  Were  the  pangs 
of  the  struggling  soul,  which  oscillates  between  death  and  life,  to  be 
your  eternal  portion,  then  would  you  have  reason  to  regard  it  as  of 
all  portions  the  most  disconsolate.  But,  my  brother,  such  pangs 
are  the  pangs  of  the  new  birth.  They  are  the  contending  of  the 
morning  twilight  with  the  thick  clouds  of  the  night.  Struggle  on 
with  fortitude,  and  the  soul  will  be  born  anew  ;  the  sun  will  come 
out  clear  from  the  former  darkness.1  Ye  who  are  striving  with  sin, 
who  are  stretching  out  your  hand  for  help,  I  will  reach  out  to  you  a 
brother's  arm.  Ye  who  like  Peter  of  old  walk  on  the  waves,  and 
with  hands  stretched  forth,  cry  out, '  Lord,  we  sink  ;'  Christ  will  ex- 
tend his  hand  to  help  you  ;  ye  shall  not  sink.  From  these  birth- 
pangs  shall  the  new  man  be  born  after  the  image  of  God.  From 
these  night-heavens  shall  the  sun  of  righteousness  shine  forth.  Wilt 
thou  be  made  whole  ?  Thus  the  Lord  asked  the  sick  around  him  ; 
thus  also  he  asks  you,  to-day.  Hear  the  words  of  the  Holy  Scripture 
which,  in  this  discourse,  I  will  present  before  you  in  the  name  of 
God.  They  should  be  to  you  like  the  hand,  that  is  stretched  out 
from  heaven  to  raise  up  from  the  power  of  sin  and  death  all  who 
will  take  hold  of  it.  "  Draw  nigh  to  God,"  cries  the  apostle  James, 
chap.  4:  v.  8,  "  and  he  will  draw  nigh  to  you."2 

Before  we  commence  the  regular  discussion  of  these  words  of  the 
apostle,  let  us,  beloved,  free  them  from  a  misconstruction  which 
might  attach  itself  to  them.  It  might  easily  appear  from  this  mode 
of  expression,  as  if  it  were  man  himself  who  took  the  first  step 
in  the  way  to  life.  But  if  so,  where  would  be  the  apostle's  words, 
4  What  hast  thou  which  thou  didst  not  receive,  and  if  thou  didst 
receive  it,  why  then  dost  thou  boast  of  thyself.1  No,  my  friends,  he 
who  is  the  first  to  stretch  out  the  hand  and  to  come  near,  is  God  ; 
and  the  apostle's  assertion  in  this  passage  can  be  applied  to 
support  no  sentiment  but  the  following, — whatever  aid  is  proffered 
thee,  thou  must  eagerly  embrace,  if  thou  wouldst  obtain  more.  We 
are,  all  of  us,  stewards  of  the  manifold  gifts  and  graces  of  God  ;  ac- 
cordingly he  hath  come  to  meet  us  all,  and  it  is  needful  that  we  go 
forth  to  meet  him,  if  we  would  receive  more  of  his  aid.  In  a  manner 
altogether  peculiar  then,  are  the  words  of  our  text  designed  for  you, 

1  See  Note  T,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 

2  See  Note  U,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 


THE  SPECIAL  PRESENCE  OF  GOD. 


163 


who  with  deep  humility  confess  that  the  grace  of  God  has  already 
come  near  you,  but  yet  weep,  partly  because  you  cannot  appropriate 
this  grace  to  yourself,  and  partly  because  you  have  not  full  and  en- 
tire satisfaction  in  it.  Let  us  then,  in  the  first  place,  propound  the 
question,  how  God  draws  near  unto  men,  and  secondly,  how  men 
draw  near  unto  God. 

1.  How  does  God  draw  near  unto  men  ?  He  draws  near  to  them 
as  God  the  Father,  in  the  work  of  creation  and  preservation.  On  all 
sides  is  every  thing  which  liveth  surrounded  with  the  great  mystery 
of  love.  It  was  love  which,  on  the  morning  of  the  creation,  cried 
into  the  darkness, '  let  there  be  light,'  and  light  was.  The  indepen- 
dent and  eternal  God,  who  might  in  his  self-existence  and  blessed- 
ness have  dwelt  forever  alone,  desired  to  have  co-partners  of  his 
blessedness,  and  he  therefore  created  the  world  and  spirits  allied  to 
his  own  nature.  And  now,  soul  of  man  !  whenever  in  the  elevation 
of  joy  thou  lookest  upon  thyself,  and  sayest  to  thyself,  1 1  am  ;'  be 
sure  that  thou  also  utter  this  exclamation, '  It  is  eternal  love  which 
hath  made  me  in  the  image  of  God.'  That  love,  which  brought  thee 
into  existence  on  earth,  see,  how  it  bears  thee  in  its  motherly 
arms  through  this  poor  life,  which  is  wreathed  about  with  thorns 
and  misery.  Far  above  this  earth,  where  souls  of  men  abide, 
thither  penetrates  a  beam  from  this  sun,  and  thither  goes  with 
it  this  motherly  love,  mild  and  blessing  ;  and  it  warms  and  sustains 
and  cherishes  and  shelters  the  ever  needy  heart  of  man.  Even  the 
rudest  mind  can  form  a  conception  of  this  near  approach  of  God  in 
the  work  of  creation  and  preservation.  Paul  goes  into  the  midst  of 
the  heathen  world  and  proclaims,  1  Turn  ye  to  the  living  God,  who 
made  heaven  and  earth  and  the  sea  and  all  that  is  therein  ;  and  hath 
not  left  himself  without  a  witness,  but  hath  given  us  much  good,  and 
hath  sent  rain  and  fruitful  seasons  from  heaven,  and  hath  filled  our 
hearts  with  joy  and  gladness.'1 

But  creating  and  preserving  love  has  not  provided  a  mirror  for 
itself  in  thee  alone.  Around  us  and  afar  off  has  it  also  erected  its 
tabernacle.  The  morning  stars  of  heaven  rejoice  in  their  Maker, 
and  the  modest  flower  of  the  earth  praises  him  in  the  lovely  vale. 
When  a  man,  who  hath  first  received  into  his  own  heart  the  full 
consciousness  of  that  love  which  encircles  heaven  and  earth  in  the 
embrace  of  its  motherly  arms,  when  such  a  man  goeth  forth  on  a 


1  Acts  14:  15,17. 


164 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


bright  day  of  spring  into  the  solitary  temple  of  nature  ;  oh — what  a 
unison  doth  he  feel  between  his  own  heart  and  all  created  objects, 
as  they  adore  and  sing, — '  Eternal,  all-protecting  love  !  Hallowed 
be  thy  name  !'  Yea  my  brethren,  in  the  work  of  his  creation  God  the 
Father  hath  approached  near  unto  us,  inexpressibly  near  unto  us, 
even  as  man  to  man  ; — to  us,  his  poor  children,  standing  in  the  need 
of  help  ; — and  let  every  thing  which  hath  breath  praise  and  exalt  the 
Lord !  i 

But  although,  my  friends,  we  are  placed  in  this  glorious  temple  of 
nature  as  the  priests  of  God,  yet  are  we  in  no  way  profited  by  it, 
unless  we  be  in  reality  priests.  Of  what  avail  is  the  fulness  of  all 
gifts  and  good  things,  which  flow  forth  to  thee  from  the  exhaustless 
store-house  of  heaven  and  earth,  if  they  do  not  expand  thy  heart  to 
deep-felt  gratitude,  and  humble  obedience  ?  Of  what  avail,  that 
every  star  in  the  heaven  and  every  worm  upon  the  earth  has  a 
tongue,  with  which  it  bears  witness  of  eternal  love,  when  the  heart 
is  deaf,  and  thy  mouth  continues  speechless  ?  Of  what  avail  to  us, 
that  God  the  Father  has  revealed  himself  in  us  and  in  nature  as  the 
Father  of  all  that  lives,  unless  we  be  his  children  ?  And  until  God 
the  Son  has  transformed  us  to  be  the  children  of  his  Father,  oh  how 
pitiably  man  stands  on  the  heaving  bosom  of  nature;  how  poor,  how 
ignorant ;  unable  to  expound  the  riddle ;  living  like  the  heathen 
without  God  and  without  hope  in  the  world  ;  and  instead  of  folding 
his  hands,  he  wrings  them  in  despair. 

2.  But,  brethren,  God  hath  come  near  unto  us,  as  God  the  Son, 
in  the  work  of  Redemption.  Without  Christ  the  heaven  of  stars,  as 
well  as  the  heart  of  man,  remains  to  us,  a  sealed  hieroglyphic. 
Seest  thou  not  how  men  conjecture  about  it  ?  how  diversely  they 
unravel  it  ?  how  they  interpret  scarcely  a  single  syllable  here  and 
there  of  the  great  enigma  ?  The  Holy,  the  Unknown,  whose 
characteristic  features  thou  couldst  not  detect  when  thou  soughtest 
to  decipher  them  from  the  flowers,  from  the  stars,  from  the  hearts 
of  men  ;  lo,  he  hath  come  forth  to  meet  thee,  he  hath  come  near  to 
thee,  as  a  man  to  his  neighbor  ;  in  Galilee  hath  he  set  up  his  taber- 
nacle ;  look  into  the  heart  of  Jesus,  and  thou  hast  read  the  heart  of 
God  ;  for,  this  is  his  exclamation,  \  Whoever  hath  seen  me,  Philip, 
hath  seen  the  Father.'     Adorable  love !  when  I  passed  thee  by  and 


1  See  Note  V,  at  the  close. 


THE  SPECIAL  PRESENCE  OF  GOD. 


165 


knew  thee  not,  then  didst  thou  lie  hidden  behind  the  veil  of  nature  ; 
then  did  I  form  conjectures  concerning  thee,  and  my  heart  swelled 
with  fulness  of  longing  desire  ;  but  since  I  have  looked  upon  thee  in 
the  Son  of  God,  who  hath  come  to  find  the  lost  sheep,  and  who 
inviteth  the  sorrowful  and  heavy  laden  to  himself,  since  that  time, 
I  have  looked  directly  upon  thy  face,  and  I  know  thee,  and  bow  my 
knee  before  thee,  and  exclaim, — Eternal  love  !  pass  not  away  from 
me,  from  me  the  poorest  of  thy  children ! 

Yea,  my  friends,  what  a  hidden  being  is  God,  before  he  hath  be- 
come manifest  to  us  in  Christ;  and  how  completely  veiled  also  is 
the  heart  of  man,  before  thou  (earnest  its  character,  in  contrast  with 
the  Saviour's.  While  I  look  upon  him  as  the  Son  of  God  and  of 
man,  the  feeling  is  awakened  in  my  breast,  that  even  I  am  of  a  God- 
like race  ;  and  yet,  when  I  look  upon  him,  tears  break  forth  from 
my  eyes;  for  alas,  the  God-like  image  within  me  is  shamefully  dis- 
figured, and  that  which  ought  to  reign  in  my  bosom,  serves.  In 
contrast  with  his  obedience,  I  learned  my  own  disobedience  ;  in 
contrast  with  his  humility,  I  learned  my  own  pride  ;  in  contrast  with 
his  compassion  and  the  swelling  of  his  heart  with  tenderness,  I 
learned  how  cold  and  unfeeling  was  my  own  spirit.  And  I  stood 
troubled  exceedingly,  and  ashamed,  and  my  tears  flowed  forth. 
Then  spake  a  voice,  from  the  throne  of  glory,  saying,  '  Weep  not, 
for  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  hath  overcome.'  Wilt  thou  be 
made  whole  ?  '  Yea,  Lord,'  I  answered,  4  ah  thou  knowest  how 
strongly  I  desire  it.1  Then  said  he,  4  My  Son,  be  of  good  cheer, 
there  is  help  for  thee  ;  stand  up  and  follow  me.1  And  I  followed 
him,  and  lo,  I  became  conscious  that  he  had  not  disappointed  me, 
when  he  said,  4  Whoever  believeth  in  me,  hath  already  received 
everlasting  life.1 

Behold,  how  Gocl  comes  near  to  man  in  the  work  of  redemption. 
But  in  vain  does  he  come  outwardly  near  thee  in  the  work  of  crea- 
tion and  atonement,  unless  he  come  also  near  thee  in  the  sanctuary 
of  thine  own  soul.  Christ  as  well  as  nature,  the  manifestation  of 
the  Son  in  redeeming  as  well  as  of  the  Father  in  creating,  stands 
before  thee  as  a  dumb  enigma,  unless  the  Spirit  perform  his  pre- 
paratory work  upon  thy  heart. 

3.  But  God  the  Spirit  also  approacheth  men  in  his  work  of 
sanctification.  If  God  bring  thee  not  to  God,  thou  canst  not  find 
God.    This  is  the  third  way  in  which  Jehovah  comes  near  to  man  ; 


166 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


he  sends  the  Divine  Spirit,  who  has  his  seat  of  operation  in  the  in- 
most recesses  of  the  human  heart,  who  invites  and  attracts  continually, 
until  he  has  brought  the  man  to  Christ.  4  God  hath  caused  all  na- 
tions of  men,  being  of  one  blood,  to  dwell  on  the  whole  face  of  the 
earth ;  and  hath  fixed  and  pre-determined  the  bounds,  both  of  time 
and  space,  in  which  they  should  live,  so  that  they  might  seek  after 
God,  if  perhaps  they  might  feel  after  him  and  find  him.  And  indeed, 
he  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us,  for  in  him  we  live,  move,  and  are.' 

Man  !  feel  the  whole  greatness  of  that  which  is  proclaimed  to 
thee  by  this  truth.  In  thine  inmost  nature  art  thou  thus  rooted 
within  the  Spirit  of  God.  No  finite  being  is  so  near,  not  even  thou 
thyself  art  so  near  to  thine  own  soul,  as  the  Spirit  of  God  is.  He  is 
with  thee  when  thou  standest  up  ;  he  goeth  with  thee  when  thou 
liest  down  ;  and  if  thou  take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  fly  even 
to  the  outmost  sea,  yet  even  there  will  his  hand  hold  thee.  Thou 
canst  by  no  means  escape  from  his  strong  hold.  The  man  who 
hath  sunk  into  darkness,  would  fain  release  himself  from  God  ;  he 
may  not  recognize  his  divine  companion,  yet  the  hand  of  this  com- 
panion is  upon  him.  Thou  hangest  the  veil  before  thee,  thou  seest 
him  not,  but  he  seeth  thee.  Beloved  man,  he  who  inwardly  speak- 
eth  to  thee  is  not  thine  enemy.  Turn  not  away  from  his  voice.  It 
is  the  voice  of  thy  friend,  the  voice  of  thy  best  friend,  thy  God  and 
Father,  who  will  bear  thee  to  his  Son.  What  he  teacheth  will  in- 
deed give  thee  pain  ;  thou  thoughtest  thou  wert  full  and  hadst  a 
sufficient  supply  ;  oh  see,  he  convinceth  thee  that  thou  art  naked 
and  destitute  ;  he  exciteth  in  thy  soul  a  hunger  and  thirst ;  it  may 
make  thee  lament,  but,  beloved  man,  turn  him  not  away ;  lo,  he 
maketh  thee  poor  and  naked  and  hungry  and  thirsty,  for  no  other 
reason  than  this,  that  he  will  clothe  thee  with  new  celestial  garments, 
such  as  his  Son  hath  provided  for  thee,  and  such  as  thou  shalt  wear 
in  his  kingdom  ;  for  no  other  reason  than  this,  that  he  will  feed 
thee  and  give  thee  drink, — feed  with  heavenly  bread,  and  give  thee 
living  water,  such  as  his  Son  shall  dispense  to  thee  in  his  kingdom. 

Behold,  my  christian  friends,  the  arms  of  love  which  your  God 
spreadeth  out  for  you,  which  come  near  unto  you,  and  are  stretched 
forth  to  embrace  you  in  all  your  ways  !  A  sea  of  love  surrounds 
you  all,  with  its  waves  on  all  sides  ;  but  how  many  of  you  thirst 
amid  these  waves,  and  must  continue  to  thirst  in  the  midst  of  them, 
if  you  will  not  extend  your  arms  to  meet  your  God.    Will  you  be 


THE  SPECIAL  PRESENCE  OF  GOD. 


167 


made  whole  ?  This  is  the  question  which  I  earnestly  repeat  to  you. 
If  it  was  necessary  that  the  man,  upon  whom  the  miracle  of  physical 
healing  was  performed,  should  be  willing  to  be  cured,  how  much 
more  necessary  is  it  that  the  man,  whose  soul  is  to  be  restored,  should 
desire  the  restoration.  Christ  revives  and  enlightens  you,  not  with- 
out nor  against  your  will.  But  behold,  here  is  the  diseased  place  in 
your  heart.  All  ye  who  are  not  dead  in  your  sins,  and  who  yet 
cannot  come  into  decided  spiritual  life  ;  who  affirm  that  you  believe, 
and  yet  are  not  conscious  of  the  power  and  blessedness  of  living  in 
the  Redeemer, — the  reason  of  your  present  condition  is  this  ;  when 
Christ  with  all  earnestness  inquires,  4  Will  you  indeed  be  made 
whole,'  you  answer,  'No,  we  will  not !'  You  hunger  not, you  thirst 
not, — how  shall  God  give  you  food  ? 

Will  you  indeed  be  made  whole  ?  Then  draw  near  to  God. 
Draw  near  to  him  and  he  will  draw  near  to  you.  The  sea  of  love 
will  not  barely  surround  you,  so  that  you  shall  remain  joyless  amid 
its  weaves  ;  you  shall  drink  from  that  sea. 

1.  Draw  near  to  God  in  the  work  of  creation  and  preservation. 
Why  fleest  thou  from  solitude  ?  Why  dost  thou  shun  the  lonely 
hour  ?  Why  passeth  thy  life  away  like  the  feast  of  the  drunkard  ? 
Why  is  it  that  to  many  of  you  there  cometh  not,  through  the  whole 
course  of  the  week,  a  single  hour  for  self-meditation  ?  You  go 
through  life  like  dreaming  men.  Ever  among  mankind,  and  never 
with  yourselves.  So  it  was  not  with  our  forefathers ;  they  had  in 
their  life  many  a  still  hour.  When  the  evening  came,  then  had 
every  one  a  set  period  which  was  consecrated  to  his  God.  You 
have  torn  down  the  cloister  ;  but  why  have  you  not  erected  it  within 
your  hearts.  Lo,  my  brother,  if  thou  wouldstseek  out  the  still  hour, 
only  a  single  one  every  day,  and  if  thou  wouldst  meditate  on  the 
love  which  called  thee  into  being,  which  hath  overshadowed  thee  all 
the  days  of  thy  life  with  blessing,  or  else  by  mournful  experiences 
hath  admonished  and  corrected  thee ;  this  would  be  to  draw  near  to 
thy  God  ;  thus  wouldst  thou  take  him  by  the  hand.  But  whenever 
in  ceaseless  dissipation  of  heart  thou  goest  astray,  the  sea  of  the 
divine  blessing  shall  surround  thee  on  all  sides,  and  yet  thy  soul  shall 
be  alhirst. — Wilt  thou  draw  near  to  God  in  his  works  of  creation 
and  preservation  ?   Then  seek  the  still  hour.1 


1  See  Note  W,  at  the  close. 


168 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


2.  Draw  near  to  God  in  his  work  of  Redemption.  How  like  a 
friend  he  hath  come  forth  to  meet  a  world  of  sinners !  and  they  go 
not  forth  to  meet  him  !  Ye,  who  are  conscious  that  ye  have  in  the 
word  of  God  eternal  life,  do  ye  read  that  word  every  day  ?  Believe 
me,  there  are  very  many  among  you  who  will  remain  in  suspense 
and  fluctuation  of  mind,  and  can  never  arrive  at  sure  conviction, 
until  they  find  opportunity  to  read  the  Scriptures  every  day  in  the 
still  hour.  But  it  is  a  question  of  vital  import, — In  what  manner  do 
you  read  ?  Ye  who  are  earnest  in  the  pursuit  of  heaven,  read  first 
the  history  of  your  Lord,  so  that  you  may  collect  into  a  single  sun 
all  the  scattered  rays  of  his  image.  Let  your  first  effort  be  to  obtain 
a  deep  impression  of  his  entire,  holy  character  and  conduct.  This 
sacred  image  will  attend  you  through  the  whole  day,  as  a  companion 
to  humble,  to  console,  to  animate  you  ;  it  will  be  with  you  like  a  good 
spirit.  Whoever  looks  for  a  long  time  at  the  sun,  receives  the  sun's 
full  image  in  his  eye,  so  that  he  beholds  nothing  anywhere  but  that 
luminary.  Thus,  my  beloved  brother,  when  through  the  whole 
morning  you  look  upon  the  sun  of  the  Redeemer's  image,  that  sacred 
form  will  impress  itself  upon  you,  and  whatever  you  see,  you  will 
see  it  only  in  its  relations  to  Christ ;  you  will  rejoice  when  you 
recognize  one  ray  from  him  ;  you  will  weep  when  you  cannot  dis- 
cover him  ;  you  will  follow  every  way-mark,  and  every  lifted  finger 
which  points  to  him, — Will  you  then  draw  near  to  God  in  the  work 
of  Redemption  ?  Read  the  testimony  respecting  his  Son,  which  he 
has  placed  in  your  hand. 

3.  Draw  near  to  God  when  he  comes  to  you  in  the  Spirit,  as  it 
operates  within  your  heart.  Oh  that  I  might,  with  divine  power, 
penetrate  all  your  souls  with  this  cry  ; — whenever  you  feel  within 
your  spirits  the  attraction  and  voice  of  your  Father,  resist  it  not ;  it 
is  the  voice  of  God  ;  it  is  the  work  of  God  ;  fail  not  to  hear  it ;  for 
it  is  in  this  particular  that  the  righteousness  of  God  is  manifested  in 
the  most  fearful  way.  '  There  dwells,'  says  a  heathen  writer, 4  in 
men,  a  Holy  Spirit,  who  treats  us  as  he  is  treated  by  us.'  Once 
turned  away,  he  comes  back  again  the  more  seldom,  and  speaks  to 
us  with  less  and  less  power.  But  what  can  I  do,  you  ask,  if  the 
voice  within  me  sounds  but  softly  ;  or  if  I  have  disdained  it,  until  it 
has  become  scarcely  audible  ?  Brother,  it  stands  recorded  :  4  Ask, 
and  it  shall  be  given  you  ;  seek,  and  you  shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened  to  you.'    You  reply, 4 1  have  a  cold  heart.  I  cannot 


THE  SPECIAL  PRESENCE  OF  GOD. 


169 


pray ;'  but  I  ask  you,  is  not  a  warm  heart  a  good  gift  ?  If  it  is  so, 
then  I  add,  it  stands  written,  1  If  ye  who  are  evil  yet  know  how  to 
give  good  gifts  unto  your  children,  how  much  more  will  your  Father 
bestow  favor  upon  them  who  ask  it.'  It  is  a  mistake,  a  dangerous 
error  to  suppose  that  man  should  pray  only  when  his  heart  prompts. 
What  shall  one  do,,  when  his  heart  dies  away,  and  incites  him  no 
more  ?  Knowest  thou  not,  that  the  soul  is  stimulated  to  prayer  by 
prayer  itself.  Hast  thou  never  yet  experienced  that  happy  state, 
when  the  soul,  grieving  over  its  inward  barrenness  and  coldness, 
casts  itself  down,  and  begins  with  frigid  feeling  to  pray,  and  this 
very  prayer  transforms  the  heart  of  stone  into  one  of  flesh,  and 
thine  affections  begin  to  swell  within  thee  and  to  pour  themselves 
out  more  and  more  freely,  and  the  words  flow  forth  in  richer  and 
richer  abundance,  and  thou  canst  find  no  end  to  them,  and  thou  art 
overpowered,  and  criest  aloud, — '  Yea  verily,  oh  God,  thou  canst  do 
superabundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  and  think  ?'  But  you  say, — 
'  Alas  my  supplication  falls  back  again  so  cold  and  faint  upon  me. 
It  seems  as  if  I  mocked  God  with  my  prayer,  full  of  words  but 
without  a  soul.'  Brother,  I  ask  you  only  one  question  : — Do  you  hun- 
ger for  the  bread  of  life  ?  If  you  do,  then  certainly  you  do  not  mock 
your  God  with  your  supplication.  Shall  it  be  that  you  entreat  longingly 
for  bread,  and  are  refused  ?  Nay,  nay,  he  in  whose  countenance 
we  behold  all  that  is  paternal,  hath  inquired,  4  What  man  is  there 
among  you,  who  if  his  son  ask  for  bread,  will  give  him  a  stone  ?' 
Cry  out  in  full  trust,  '  Bread,  Father  !  I  wish  !  Thou  who  givest 
earthly  bread  to  the  young  ravens,  thy  child  longeth  for  the  bread 
of  the  soul.'  And  do  you  think  that  to  you  alone,  among  all  mortals, 
there  would  come  a  refusal  ?  Remember  that  the  holy  men  of  God  ; 
remember  that,  in  particular,  Augustus  Hermann  Francke1  fell  on 
his  knees  and  prayed, — '  God,  if  thou  art,  manifest  thyself  unto  me.' 
Lo,  thus  was  he  obliged  to  begin  to  learn  how  to  pray ;  and  the 
manner  in  which  he  ended,  the  conclusion  to  which  he  came,  you 
know — see,  the  edifice  of  his  faith,  of  his  prayers,  is  erected  among 
you,  an  imperishable  monument.  And  can  you  still  doubt,  you  with 
the  cold  heart,  that  you  will  learn  to  pray  with  warm  and  glowing 
feeling,  if  you  will  but  begin  in  faith  ?  Beloved  Christians,  draw 
near  to  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  in  supplication. 

Come  then,  all  ye  who  are  not  dead,  and  yet  are  not  alive  ;  ye 
1  See  Note  X,  at  the  close  of  the  Sermons. 
22 


170 


SERMONS  OF  PROF.  THOLUCK. 


whom  the  earth  will  not  leave  unmolested,  and  whom  heaven  will 
not  accept ;  ye  who  serve  two  masters,  how  long  will  ye  fluctuate  ? 
Hold  fast  in  your  souls  this  one  truth  ;  whatsoever  can  be  done  on 
the  part  of  God,  hath  already  been  done.  The  wedding  festival  is 
prepared ;  you  have  been  invited ;  nothing  remains  but  for  you  to 
come.  The  sea  of  love  surrounds  you  ;  nothing  remains  but  for 
you  to  drink.  At  the  last  day,  when  you  wring  your  hands  in  despair, 
shall  it  be  said,  '  I  was  willing,  but  ye  were  not  willing  ?'  How  to 
approach  him  who  approacheth  you  so  graciously,  you  know.  Seek 
the  still  hour,  every  day.  Read  the  Holy  Scriptures,  every  day. 
Attend,  every  hour  and  every  instant,  to  every  attracting  influence 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  When  the  Spirit  keepeth  silence,  then  cling  to 
your  prayer. 

Israel !  why  wilt  thou  die  ?  Lo,  thou  knowest  what  course  is 
needful  for  thy  happiness.  Whoever  remaineth  shut  out,  whoever 
remaineth  shut  out  from  the  work  of  grace, — he  hath  shut  himself 
out. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 

NOTE  A,  Page  115. 

The  sermons  of  Tholuck,  which  are  translated  in  this  volume,  may  not  be 
the  most  highly  finished  specimens  of  his  pulpit-style  ;  but  they  are  sup- 
posed to  exhibit  as  much  thought  that  would  be  interesting  to  American 
Christians,  and  in  combination  with  this  as  much  of  their  author's  peculiari- 
ty of  manner,  as  any  equal  number  which  he  has  published.  They  were  all 
preached  at  the  service  appointed  for  the  University  students  at  Halle.  The 
title  of  the  volumes  from  which  they  are  taken  is,  "  Predigten  in  dem  akade- 
mischen  Gottesdienste  der  Universitat  Halle  in  der  St.  Ulrichs — und  in  der 
Domkirche  gehalten,  von  Dr.  A.  Tholuck."  The  first  sermon  in  this  selection 
is  found  in  Tholuck's  4th  Volume,  or  more  properly  "  Sammlung,"  pp. 
54—68;  the  second,  in  his  2d  Vol.  pp.  164—176;  the  third,  in  his  4th  Vol. 
pp.  123— 136;  the  fourth,  in  his  1st  Vol.  pp.  32— 46  ;  the  fifth,  in  hi3  1st 
Vol.  pp.  161—171  ;  the  sixth,  in  his  first  Vol.  pp.  74—86. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


171 


NOTE  B,  Page  115. 

The  title  which  Tholuck  gives  to  this  sermon  is,  "  The  true  idea  of  the 
external  discipline  of  the  law  under  the  Christian  economy."  As  Tholuck 
is  sometimes  accused  of  incoherency  in  his  train  of  thought,  it  is  judged  ex- 
pedient to  give  a  brief  synopsis  of  the  contents  of  each  sermon.  The  fol- 
lowing is  an  analysis  of  the  first  discourse. 

Introduction; — the  piety  of  former  times  characterized  by  observance  of 
law;  that  of  modern  times,  by  impulses  of  feeling;  p.  115.  Text,  explica- 
tion, division  ;  p.  116.  The  fervent  Christian  is  not  prompted  to  the  per- 
formance of  his  religious  duties  by  the  fact,  that  they  are  commanded  ;  p. 
117.  Illustration,  drawn  from  our  performance  of  many  moral  duties,  with- 
out being  prompted  by  the  civil  law  ;  happiness  of  such  a  state  of  freedom; 
p.  118. — The  Christian,  so  far  as  be  is  remiss,  stands  in  need  of  law;  he 
needs  the  law,  that  he  may  have  before  him  a  standard  of  perfect  virtue  ;  in 
what  manner  does  the  law  humble  for  sin  ;  what  is  comprehended  under 
the  term  'law  ;'  p.  119.  The  imperfect  Christian  needs  the  law,  that  he  may 
be  fortified  against  the  sins,  which  most  strongly  tempt  him  ;  reciprocal  in- 
fluence of  internal  and  external  actions  ;  p.  120.  Necessity  of  resisting  sin  ; 
p.  121.  Importance  of  outward  observances,  illustrated  in  the  case  of  the 
ancient  Israelites  ;  also  in  the  case  of  the  Quakers  ;  pp.  122,  123.  Ex- 
hortation to  observe  outward  forms;  p.  123.  The  imperfect  Christian  needs 
the  law,  as  a  seal  of  the  method  which  he  has  chosen  of  obtaining  the  divine 
favor  through  grace;  p.  124.  Dependence  of  Protestant  Christians  on  their 
own  works;  illustration  ;  pp.  124,  125.    Conclusion,  p.  125. 

NOTE  C,  Page  116. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  act  of  the  Saviour's  life,  more  full  of  doctrinal  instruc- 
tion, and  more  illustrative  of  the  remark  that  his  deeds  were  in  themselves 
discourses,  than  that  recorded  in  Matt.  12:  1—8,  Mark  2:  23— 28,  and  Luke 
6:  1 — 5.  He  evinced  here  as  well  as  elsewhere,  the  greatness  and  stability 
of  his  mind,  by  doing  what  was  precisely  right,  in  opposition  to  the  two 
parties  who  were,  though  in  two  opposite  ways,  wrong.  Some  would  have 
been  glad  to  see  the  Sabbath  desecrated,  and  many  would  have  been 
glad  to  see  it  observed  with  over-scrupulous  strictness ;  but  Christ  in 
opposition  to  both  extremes  does  what  is  just  right.  An  ultra-conservative 
spirit  would  have  inquired,  whether  one  extreme  of  wrong  were  not  safer 
than  the  other  ;  whether  there  were  not  a  stronger  tendency  in  man  to 
license  than  to  rigor;  and  therefore  whether  it  would  not  be  the  more  judi- 
cious and  prudent  course,  to  go  a  little  farther  than  needful  one  way,  so  as  to 
deter  men  from  going  too  far  the  other  way  ;  to  encourage  the  extreme  of 
undue  severity,  so  as  to  draw  men  from  the  worse  extreme  of  injurious 
liberty.  But  with  a  full  view  of  the  pronenessof  man  to  convert  indulgence 
into  license,  our  Saviour  defended  the  course  which  was  most  obnoxious  to 
the  high  religionists  of  his  time.    And  yet  he  defended  it  on  such  sober 


172 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


principles,  as  to  give  no  countenance  to  those  latitudinarian  views  of  the 

Sabbath,  which  his  act  is  supposed  by  some  to  have  sanctioned. 

The  five  reasons,  which  he  gave  for  the  plucking  of  the  ears  of  corn,  are, — 
first,  that  the  example  of  David,  recorded  in  1  Sam.  21:  G,  is  a  precedent 
for  allowing  the  necessities  of  nature  to  suspend  ceremonial  observances ; 
secondly,  that  the  custom  of  sacrificing  victims,  circumcising  infants,  and 
performing  other  works  connected  with  the  rites  of  Judaism,  was  a  prece- 
dent for  allowing  just  so  much  manual  and  secular  labor,  as  the  spiritual 
good  of  men  required  ;  thirdly,  that  the  Old  Testament  expressly  declares 
mercy  to  be  more  acceptable  to  God  than  sacrifice  ;  or,  in  other  words, 
kindness  and  rational  benevolence  to  one's  self  and  others,  to  be  better  than 
austere  and  onerous  ceremonies,  see  Hosea  C:  6;  fourthly,  that  the  Sab- 
bath is  not  the  end  and  man  the  means,  but  man  is  the  end  and  the  Sabbath 
the  means;  and  fifthly,  that  the  Messiah  is  Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  and  has 
power  at  any  time  to  release  from  its  observance.  For  a  full  explanation 
of  these  reasons,  see  Calvin's  Com.  Vol.  1.  pp.  280, 281. — The  evil  conse- 
quences, which  have  resulted,  and  are  still  resulting,  to  the  interests  of  re- 
ligion upon  the  continent  of  Europe,  from  the  loose  views  of  the  Reformers 
on  the  subject  of  the  Sabbath,  and  from  the  propagation  of  these  views 
through  the  German  and  the  neighboring  churches,  form  a  striking  com- 
mentary on  the  dissonance  of  so  lax  a  doctrine  with  the  doctrine,  always 
salutary,  of  the  great  Teacher  of  morals. 

This  may  be  a  proper  place  to  add,  that  first  in  the  paragraph  to  which 
this  note  refers,  and  subsequently  in  various  parts  of  the  sermon,  there  is  an 
explanation  given  of  the  words,  "  the  Son  of  man  is  Lord  of  the  Sabbath," 
which  although  defended  by  some  able  critics,  does  not  seem  to  be  correct. 
"  In  the  concluding  expression,"  says  Olshausen,"  which  all  the  evangelists 
have  in  common, — 1  The  Son  of  man  is  Lord  of  the  Sabbath,'  the  words 
1  Son  of  man'  cannot  possibly  be  supposed  parallel  with  the  word  '  man'  in 
Mark  2:  27.  For  although  sinful  mortals  were  not  made  for  the  sake  of  the 
law,  but  conversely  the  law  was  made  for  the  sake  of  these  mortals;  yet  it 
would  be  altogether  improper  to  affirm,  that  they  are  Lords  of  the  law,  or  of 
any  one  of  its  ordinances.  This  can  be  said  of  him  only  who  is  the  perfect 
man,  the  first  of  men.  The  phrase  '  Son  of  man'  is  here  to  be  regarded  as 
in  contrast  with  the  word  '  man'  in  Mark  2:  27,  and  therefore  the  phrase  ex- 
presses the  Messianic  authority  of  Jesus.  As  the  Lord  of  heaven  (1  Cor. 
15:  47),  even  while  wandering  here  below  in  the  plain  garb  of  a  human 
being,  the  Messiah  was  elevated  above  all  the  legal  ordinances,  for  his  will 
itself  was  the  law.  He  never  exhibits  himself,  however,  as  in  any  manner 
annulling  the  law,  but  as  fulfilling  it  in  a  deep  spiritual  sense,  Matt.  5:  17. 
Thus  the  Redeemer  fulfils  the  precept  of  the  Old  Testament  respecting  the 
Sabbath,  while  he  recommends  an  inward  warmth  of  soul  and  rest  in  God." 
Comm.  on  New  Test.  Vol.  I.  p.3GG. 

Tholuck's  opinion,  that  the  term  Sabbath  is  used  in  the  text  by  synecdoche 
for  the  whole  law,  is  the  same  with  that  of  Olshausen,  Vol.  I.  p.  3G5,  and  of 
other  evangelical  commentators. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


173 


NOTE  D,  Page  125. 

The  title  which  Tholuck  gives  to  this  sermon  is,  "  The  truth,  that  the 
Lord  is  not  in  the  storm  and  tempest,  but  in  the  soft,  still  sound, — con- 
sidered in  reference  to  the  appearance  of  the  Saviour  in  the  world." 

The  sermon  was  preached  Dec.  2G,  1834,  on  the  second  day  of  the 
Christmas-Festival;  hence  the  allusions  in  the  introductory  sentence.  The 
religious  festivities  of  Christmas,  as  observed  by  the  German  Lutherans, 
commence  on  the  25th  of  December,  and  extend  to  the  Cth  of  January  ;  the 
former  day  being  regarded  as  that  of  Christ's  birth,  and  the  latter  as  that  of 
the  Epiphany.  The  26th  of  Dec,  the  second  day  of  Christmas,  is  connected 
with  a  particular  reference  to  the  martyrdom  of  Stephen  ;  the  27th,  the 
third  day,  to  the  memory  of  John  the  Evangelist;  and  the  28th,  the  fourth 
day,  to  the  slaughter  of  the  infants  at  Bethlehem.  See  Augusti  Handbuch 
der  Christ.  Archaeol.  1.  pp.  531,  7,  8. 

The  following  is  the  analysis  of  this  discourse.  Introduction  ;  general 
celebration  of  the  birth  of  Christ;  p.120.  Text ;  explication  ;  pp.  126,  127; 
Division,  p.  128.  The  gentleness  of  Christ's  mission  is  shown  by  the  man- 
ner of  his  entrance  into  the  world;  p.  128.  Effect  produced  on  the  mind  by 
conceiving  of  the  appearance  of  Jehovah  to  us  ;  p.  128.  Difference  between 
the  mode  of  creating,  and  that  of  destroying  ;  peculiar  circumstances  of 
Christ's  advent ;  what  might  they  have  been ;  p.  129.  What  will  be  the 
circumstances  of  his  second  coming;  p.  130.  The  gentleness  of  Christ, 
exemplified  in  his  progress  through  the  world  ;  humility  of  his  appearance  ; 
p.  130.  Predictions  of  his  mildness  ;  contrast  between  him  as  a  preacher, 
and  other  inspired  men  ;  p.  131.  Character  of  Christ's  miracles  in  contrast 
with  what  it  might  have  been,  and  what  the  character  of  other  miracles  has 
been  ;  p.  132.  The  gentleness  of  Christ  shown  in  the  manner  of  his  leaving 
the  world;  how  might  he  have  departed;  how  did  he  depart.  Con- 
clusion ;  p.  133. 

NOTE  E,  Page  128. 

Tholuck  has  another  discourse  on  the  same  text  with  this,  and  imme- 
diately succeeding  it,  in  Vol.  2,  pp.  177 — 192.  Subject,— The  truth  that 
1  God  is  not  in  the  storm  and  tempest,'  considered  in  its  application  to  God's 
treatment  of  men.    The  following  is  a  brief  abstract  of  it. 

i  "  My  worshipping  friends,  on  the  last  Feast-day  I  made  this  text  the  theme 
of  a  discourse,  and  considered  it  in  reference  to  the  appearance  of  Jesus 
Christ  in  the  world. — But  as  the  diamond  sends  forth  its  bright  beams  from 
whatever  side  it  may  be  looked  upon,  so  many  incidents  and  expressions 
recorded  in  sacred  writ  impart  instruction,  from  whatever  aspect  they  may 
be  viewed.  This  is  true  with  our  text ;  in  various  respects  the  Lord  is  not 
in  the  storm  but  in  the  soft  sound.  Let  us  to  day  consider  the  words  in 
reference  to  God's  treatment  of  men. 


174 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


If  now  we  understand  by  the  storm  and  tempest  those  times  in 
which  God  comes  near  to  men  with  terror  and  desolation,  it  may  appear 
questionable,  whether  the  words  of  our  text  can  be  applied  to  his  treatment 
of  our  race.  For  who  of  us  does  not  know  how  often  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  how  often  in  the  history  of  the  christian  church  the  Lord  has  appear- 
ed in  terror  and  devastation  ?  Yea  who  is  not  aware  how  much  more  in- 
frequent have  been  the  times,  when  God  appeared  to  him  in  the  mild  gentle 
sunshine,  than  those  in  which  he  came  as  the  storms  roared,  and  the  clouds 
of  the  tempest  gathered.  The  Lord  does  indeed  appear  to  man  in  the  storm 
and  tempest,  as  Christ  also  will  appear  in  the  same,  though  at  his  first 
coining  he  appeared  in  the  soft  sound. 

We  add,  however,  that  the  most  appropriate  manifestations  of  the  Deity 
are  in  the  gentle  mode.  When  our  text  asserts,  that  he  is  not  in  the  storm 
and  tempest,  it  can  be  understood  only  in  this  sense,  he  is  not  in  the  storm 
and  tempest  so  characteristically  as  in  the  gentle  whisper.  Thus  you  often 
find  in  the  Bible  an  exclusive  and  negative  proposition,  which  must  be 
understood  with  some  limit  of  this  sort.  It  is  said  for  example,  '  I  am  not 
come  to  bring  peace  but  a  sword,'  and  also,  '  when  thou  makest  an  enter- 
tainment, invite  not  thy  friends,  but  the  poor,  the  cripple,  the  blind,  the 
lame.'  Wherefore  let  us  consider,  first,  the  truth  that  the  Lord  does  come 
in  the  storm  and  tempest,  and  secondly  that  he  comes,  in  a  more  peculiar 
sense,  in  the  soft  sound. 

1.  That  the  Lord  comes  in  storm  and  tempest  is  evident,  in  the  first  place, 
from  the  history  of  the  world,  and  of  the  church,  as  they  are  considered 
collectively.  It  seems  to  be  with  men,  as  it  is  with  the  hour-glass,  which 
must  at  certain  times  he  turned  upside  down,  so  that  it  may  go.  (Illus- 
trated by  various  historical  facts.) 

That  the  Lord  comes  in  storm  and  tempest  is  shown,  in  the  second  place, 
in  the  history  of  men  considered  individually. — Is  it  not  true  that  when  the 
sun  shines  upon  us,  and  we  feel  its  gentle  warmth  in  our  life,  we  become 
indifferent  to  its  mild  beams,  and  do  not  so  much  as  ask,  whence  comes  the 
pleasant  light  ?  Because  it  is  grateful  to  our  feelings,  we  think  that  it  is  a 
matter  of  course.  If  any  one  says,  this  is  the  work  of  the  beloved  God,  it  is 
said  in  mere  formality.  Not  until  the  tempest  comes,  which  we  dread,  do 
we  look  around  us  and  inquire, — whence  comes  this  ?  Before  the  eye  of 
the  Christian  there  rises  to  the  clouds  from  every  event  in  life  a  thread,  on 
which  the  eye  moves  along  up  to  the  Source,  where  all  gifts  end  and  begin. 
But  the  eye  of  the  natural  man  sees  not  the  thread,  so  long  as  the  sun 
shines.  When'  it  is  night  and  lightning  gleams  through  the  darkness,  then 
only  does  he  discern  the  thread,  then  for  the  first  time  do  his  tardy  affections 
rise  upward  to  God.  Oh  what  an  image  of  the  heart  of  man,  in  this  respect, 
is  the  history  of  Israel.  What  Moses  says  in  his  parting  song,  how  it  is 
confirmed  in  the  history  of  us  all.  '  The  Lord  found  them  in  the  desert,  in 
the  barren  wilderness  ;  and  as  an  eagle  fluttereth  over  her  young,  and  bear- 
eth  them  away,  so  the  Lord  spread  out  his  wings,  and  took  them,  and 
bore  them  on  his  wings,  and  nourished    them   with  the  fruits  of  the 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


175 


held,  and  let  them  suck  honey  from  the  rock,  and  oil  from  the  hard 
stone.  But  when  they  were  satiated  and  had  become  fat,  they  were 
insolent.  They  grew  strong,  and  neglected  the  God  who  made  them.' 
As  David  confesses  of  himself,  'Before  I  was  brought  low  I  went  astray, 
but  now,  Lord,  1  keep  thy  word,'  so  do  the  greater  part  of  Christians  confess, 
each  of  himself,  'As  long  as  thou,  eternal  God,  heldest  back  thy  lightning 
and  thunder,  I  went  astray  ;  but  when  they  prostrated  me  upon  the  ground, 
1  then  attended,  for  the  first  time,  to  thy  word,  and  learned  by  experience 
that  the  Lord  cometh  to  men  in  the  storm  and  tempest.'  And  this  is  not 
only  the  fact  at  the  first  return  to  God,  at  conversion;  ah,  is  it  not  our 
general  experience  that  the  star  of  faith  never  shines  brighter,  than  when  it 
is  night  all  around  us  ?  and  that  the  field  of  our  life  never  brings  forth  better 
fruit  than  when  the  storm  and  tempest  come  over  it?  What  but  this  is  the 
reason  that  you,  who  are  the  most  experienced  Christians,  when  you  look 
back  upon  your  days  gone  by,  think  of  the  days  of  storm  and  commotion, 
with  no  less  gratitude  than  those  of  peace  ;  for  all  chastisement  when  it  is 
upon  us,  seemeth  to  be  not  a  matter  of  joy  but  of  sorrow  ;  yet  afterwards  it 
will  yield  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness,  to  those  who  are  exercised 
by  it  ? 

2.  It  is  true,  however,  that  the  appropriate  coming  of  the  Deity  is  in  the 
gentle  sound.  What  do  we  understand  by  the  term,  appropriate  coming  ? 
We  understand  such  a  manifestation  as  that  which  he  will  make  through  all 
eternity,  and  in  which  he  will  always  come  to  his  glorified  church.  When, 
as  the  Scripture  garth,  '  the  condition  of  the  world  passeth  away,'  then  shall 
also  pass  away  all  those  modes,  in  which  the  Lord  was  wont  to  present  him- 
self before  his  friends,  in  a  world  where  sin  and  death  reigned.  And  the 
way  in  which  God  will  exhibit  himself  through  all  eternity,  when  sin  and 
death  shall  be  no  more,  must  be  the  proper  and  appropriate  way.  (For  the 
admissibility  of  such  a  phrase,  see  Isaiah  28:  21 . — Tr.)  Let  us  consider  how 
the  holy  seer  viewed  these  last  days,  when  he  said, '  And  I  John  saw  the 
holy  city,  the  New  Jerusalem  come  down  from  God  out  of  heaven,  prepared 
as  a  bride  adorned  for  her  husband.  And  1  heard  a  great  voice  from  heaven 
saying,  Behold  the  tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and  he  will  dwell  with 
them,  and  they  shall  be  his  people,  and  God  himself  shall  be  with  them,  and 
shall  be  their  God,  and  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes,  and  death 
shall  be  no  more, neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  neither  shall  there  be  any  more 
pain  ;  for  the  former  things  have  passed  away.'  So  shall  it  be  at  the  end  of 
the  world  ;  as  a  silent  sunbeam  he  shall  come  down  softly  and  solemnly, 
and  all  the  hearts  of  men  shall  be  flowers  holding  themselves  still  before 
him,  and  drinking  in  the  sunbeam,  without  moving,  without  turning  away, 
for  God  will  be  All  in  all." 

(The  state  of  spiritual  rest  in  God  is  begun  on  earth,  and  the  instances 
are  frequent,  in  churches,  see  Acts  2:  47,  and  pious  individuals,  such  as 
Arndt,  Spener,  Francke,  in  which  God  has  erected  his  tabernacle  among 
men,  and  moved  about,  as  a  Friend  and  Father,  in  solemn  stillness.) 


176 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


NOTE  F,  Page  133. 

Like  all  other  writers,  Tholuck  has  his  favorite  ideas,  which  he  is  apt  to 
repeat  in  a  varied  form.  The  scenes  of  the  Saviour's  life  are  among  his 
select  topics,  and  the  reader  will  at  once  see  the  resemblance  between  the 
following  descriptions,  and  some  of  those  in  the  sermon  to  which  this  note 
refers. 

"  From  the  instant  of  the  Saviour's  resurrection,  when  he  left  mortality 
behind  him  in  the  tomb,  he  belonged  to  the  earth  no  more.  While  he  had 
previously  been  the  constant  companion  of  his  disciples,  living  with  them 
as  a  father  with  his  children,  he  now  appears  to  them  but  occasionally,  and 
in  divers  places.  Where  he  now  abides  they  do  not  ask  him.  They  ask 
him  not  and  we  know  not.  That  he  would  return  to  the  Father  he  has 
often  taught  them  ;  and  they  may  therefore  have  concluded,  that  even  at 
this  time  he  made  his  abode  with  his  Father.  He  has  assembled  them  for 
the  last  time  in  the  capital  city.  He  has  said  to  them  not  a  word  more 
respecting  himself.  He  has  spoken  with  them  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Early  in  the  morning,  at  an  hour  when  no  unconsecrated  eye  could  see  him, — 
for  only  they,  who  believed  in  him,  had  beheld  him  since  his  resurrection,— 
he  walks  with  the  eleven, — the  twelfth  had  gone  to  his  own  place,  as  the 
Scripture  says, — through  the  yet  silent  streets  of  the  city, — he  goes  out  at 
the  gate,  and  ascends  with  them  the  very  mountain,  whose  foot  had  been 
moistened  with  the  tears,  yea  with  the  bloody  sweat  of  the  now  glorified  man. 
Who  conjectures  what  now  passed  through  his  God-like  heart,  as  he  stood 
on  this  commanding  eminence  and  cast  the  earthly,  human  glance  for  the 
last  time,  upon  the  scene  of  his  agonies,  the  scene  of  his  weeping.  "  It  is 
finished,"  he  had  exclaimed  once,  as  he  bowed  his  head  upon  the  cross  ;  "  It 
is  finished,"  he  now  cries  out  once  more.  There  lie  at  his  feet  eleven  men, 
whom  his  wrestlings  and  his  tears  have  taken  captive  as  a  precious  prey 
from  the  world  ;  but  more  than  eleven  millions,  who  will  lie  at  his  feet  on 
some  future  day,  and  for  whom  these  eleven  are  but  the  small  grains  of  seed, 
are  in  his  prophetic  view. — It  is  finished." 

"  You  all  know,  my  hearers,  of  what  invaluable  worth  is  the  last  look  of 
a  departing  friend.  As  his  countenance  then  appeared — that  is  the  image 
which  imprints  itself  most  deeply  on  the  soul.  Why  is  it  unpleasant 
to  stand,  as  one  must,  by  the  dying-bed  of  a  friend,  who  is  trembling 
under  the  cold  touch  of  death.  Ah,  above  all  things  else  is  it  on  this 
account,  that  the  loved  one  will  ever  recur  to  our  remembrance  in 
this  image  of  pain.  How  delightful  now  it  is  to  see  the  manner  in 
which  the  last  glance  of  the  Saviour  fell  upon  his  chosen.  It  is  said 
in  the  Gospel  of  Luke,  that  'he  lifted  up  his  hands  and  blessed  them, 
and  as  he  was  blessing  them,  he  parted  with  them.'  If  an  inventive  fancy 
would  form  some  conception  of  the  mode  in  which  the  Saviour  might  have 
taken  his  departure  from  earth,  that  Saviour  who  broke  not  the  bruised  reed, 
nor  quenched  the  glowing  wick,  could  it  design  a  more  becoming,  a  more 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


177 


beautiful  picture  than  this  ?  I  have  already,  on  another  occasion,  asked  you 
to  consider  how  rich  the  Gospel  history  is  in  subjects  for  representation  by 
the  arts.  This  mode  of  the  Redeemer's  departure  did  not  take  place  by 
accident.  It  is  in  keeping  with  the  whole  life  of  him,  who  came  into  the 
world  not  to  condemn  it  but  to  make  it  happy.  Imagine  that  the  Saviour 
of  sinners  had  terminated  his  earthly  course  like  Elias,  that  preacher  of 
repentance,  who  was  carried  to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire  by  a  tempest  of 
the  Lord;  and  you  will  then  feel  that  such  a  termination  is  not  consonant 
with  either  the  beginning  or  the  middle  of  the  Saviour's  course.  We  read 
of  the  apostles,  that  <■  they  went  back  to  Jerusalem  with  great  joy  !'  With 
joy  ?  With  joy  after  their  One  and  All  had  been  parted  from  them,  and 
while  they  were  not  yet  certain  of  his  revisit  in  the  Spirit? — Yea  with  joy. 
They  had  seen  the  hands  stretched  out  to  bless  them.  Wherever  they 
stood  and  wherever  they  went,  the  blessing  hands  were  before  their  eyes. — 
And  do  not  we,  beloved  brethren,  exclaim,  oh  that  we  had  been  there,  oh 
that  we  had  seen  them,  those  blessing  hands?  Go  then,  dear  friends,  go 
in  the  spirit  so  much  the  oftener  to  that  cheering  history  ;  celebrate  Christ's 
ascension  in  your  hearts.  And  wherever  ye  behold  men  sorrowing  and  al- 
ways grieved,  there  show  them  these  blessing  hands  !" — Vol.  II.  pp.  124, 
.125,  129,  130. 

The  reader  will  at  once  perceive  the  resemblance  between  the  main  idea 
of  Tholuck's  sermon  on  the  gentleness  of  Christ,  and  the  following  passage 
taken  from  the  close  of  Milman's  Fall  of  Jerusalem. 

"  Thou  wast  born  of  woman,  thou  did'st  come, 
O  Holiest !  to  this  world  of  sin  and  gloom, 
Not  in  thy  dread  omnipotent  array ; 

And  not  by  thunder  strow'd 

Was  thy  tempestuous  road  ; 
Nor  indignation  burned  before  thee  on  thy  way. 
But  thee,  a  soft  and  naked  child, 
Thy  mother  undefiled, 
In  the  rude  manger  laid  to  rest 
From  off  her  virgin  breast. 

The  heavens  were  not  commanded  to  prepare 

A  gorgeous  canopy  of  golden  air ; 

Nor  stoop'd  their  lamps  th'  enthroned  fires  on  high; 

A  single  silent,  star 

Came  wand'Ting  from  afar, 
Gliding  uncheck'd  and  calm  along  the  liquid  sky  ; 
The  Eastern  sages  leading  on, 
As  at  a  kingly  throne, 
To  lay  their  gold  and  odors  sweet 
Before  thy  infant  feet. 
23 


178 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


The  earth  and  ocean  were  not  hush'd  to  hear 
Bright  harmony  from  ev'ry  starry  sphere  ; 
Nor  at  thy  presence  brake  the  voice  of  song 

From  all  the  cherub  choirs, 

And  seraphs'  burning  lyres 
Pour'd  through  the  host  of  Heav'n  the  charmed  clouds  along  : 
One  angel  troop  the  strain  began, 
Of  all  the  race  of  man, 
By  simple  shepherds  heard  alone, 
That  soft  Hosanna's  tone. 

And  when  thou  didst  depart,  no  car  of  flame 
To  bear  thee  hence  in  lambent  radiance  came ; 
Nor  visible  angels  mourn'd  with  drooping  plumes  : 

Nor  didst  thou  mount  on  high 

From  fatal  Calvary, 
With  all  thine  own  redeem'd  out-bursting  from  their  tombs. 
For  thou  didst  bear  away  from  earth 
But  one  of  human  birth, 
The  dying  felon  by  thy  side,  to  be 
In  paradise  with  thee. 


Nor  o'er  thy  cross  the  clouds  of  vengeance  break, 
A  little  while  the  conscious  earth  did  shake 
At  that  foul  deed  by  her  fierce  children  done  ; 

A  few  dim  hours  of  day, 

The  world  in  darkness  lay, 
Then  bask'd  in  bright  repose  beneath  the  cloudless  sun  ; 
While  thou  didst  sleep  beneath  the  tomb, 
Consenting  to  thy  doom, 
Ere  yet  the  white-robed  Angel  shone 
Upon  the  sealed  stone. 

And  when  thou  didst  arise,  thou  didst  not  stand 
With  devastation  in  thy  red  right  hand, 
Plaguing  the  guilty  city's  murtherous  crew  ; 

But  thou  didst  haste  to  meet 

Thy  mother's  coming  feet, 
And  bear  the  words  of  peace  unto  the  faithful  few  : 
Then  calmly,  slowly  didst  thou  rise 
Into  thy  native  skies, 
Thy  human  form  dissolved  on  high 
In  its  own  radiancy." 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


179 


NOTE  G,  Page  134. 

This  sermon  was  preached  at  the  commencement  of  a  new  term,  (half- 
year,  semester),  in  the  University  at  Halle.  The  title  which  Tholuck  gives 
it  is,  "  Why  do  our  resolutions  remain  so  frequently  without  results."  The 
following  is  its  analysis. 

Introduction  ;  discouraging  influence  of  hroken  resolves ;  power  of 
Christianity  to  secure  adherence  to  our  resolutions;  p.  134.  Text;  ex- 
planation; p.  135.  Division;  reluctance  to  humble  ourselves;  p.  136. 
Comparison  between  humility  of  mind,  and  the  death  of  the  body ;  reproof 
of  Christians  ;  p.  137.  Insincerity,  and  want  of  particularity  in  confessing 
sin  ;  p.  138.  Sins  should  be  confessed  before  God,  and  chiefly  in  view  of 
having  been  committed  against  him ;  distinctive  mark  of  a  Christian  ; 
meaning  of  the  term  religion  ;  p.  139.  Humility  in  view  of  having  sinned 
against  God  has  great  power  ;  importance  of  secret  prayer  ;  p.  140.  Our 
humility  should  be  accompanied  with  faith  ;  happiness  not  the  first  duty  of 
the  Christian,  but  consequent  upon  faith  and  love,  which  are  the  first 
duties;  p.  141.  True  humility  cheerful,  illustrated  by  examples;  p.  142. 
Conclusion  ;  pp.  142 — 3. 

NOTE  H,  Page  135. 

"Before  I  was  humbled,"  gedemilthigt.  Luther  and  De  Wette  give  the 
same  translation.  The  Vulgate  also  gives  '  humiliarer,'  and  the  Septuagint, 
Ta.T£irw^ic<i.  The  word  humbled  is  however,  in  this  place,  equivocal;  as 
it  may  refer  the  renewed  obedience  of  David,  either  to  previous  suffering  of 
body  or  mind,  or  to  the  grace  of  humility,  which  was  followed  by  that  of 
faithful  obedience.  That  the  former  is  the  right  shade  of  meaning  is 
probable  from  the  facts  in  David's  history  (if  he  wrote  this  Psalrn),  and  from 
such  parallel  passages  as  Ps.  116:  10.  119:  71,  75,  etc.  See  Gesenius  on  the 
word  ri:5>,  which  he  translates  in  this  passage  by  afflictus,  depressus, 
oppressus  est ;  and  De  Wette,  Com.  on  Ps.,  p.  522,  where  he  says  '  adversity 
(unglack)  had  benefitted  the  poet,'  and  considers  the  passage  parallel  with 
Ps.  118:18,  1  the  Lord  hath  chastened  me  sore,' etc.  Tholuck's  idea  of 
the  passage,  as  developed  in  the  progress  of  his  sermon,  includes  both  the 
idea  of  our  English  translation,  that  of  being  '  afflicted,'  oppressed  with 
pain,  and  also  that  of  being  penitent  in  view  of  sin.  His  application  of  the 
words  does  not  seem  to  be  precisely  correct. 

NOTE  I,  Page  143. 

The  following  is  the  analysis  of  the  fourth  sermon. — Introduction; 
insufficiency  of  reasons  from  nature  for  believing  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul;  p.  143.  The  resurrection  of  Christ  the  great  argument;  proposition 
of  the  discourse  ;  text;  division;  p.  144.  Contrast  between  the  trembling 
spirit  of  a  servant  and  the  praying  spirit  of  a  child;  case  of  the  Israelites  ; 
importance  of  trembling  ;  p.  145.    Prayer  is  the  evidence  of  our  adoption  j 


180 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


what  kind  of  prayer  ;  whence  arising  ;  how  excited  ;  grounds  on  which 
God  hears  it ;  illustrations;  pp.  146,  147.  How  is  this  prayer  expressed; 
nature  of  prayer;  praying  without  intermission;  true  mode  of  prayer  illus- 
trated ;  p.  1 48.  Happy  effects  of  prayer  ;  how  a  pledge  of  future  life  ;  how 
is  the  transformation  of  the  heart  from  flesh  to  spirit  a  pledge  ;  p.  149. 
Practical  appeal  ;  how  is  the  transformation  of  the  heart  from  spiritual  death 
to  spirituil  life  a  pledge  of  future  blessedness;  joy  of  a  devoted  Christian; 
pp.  150,  151.  Practical  appeal  to  unfaithful  and  faithful  Christians;  to 
sinners  ;  conclusion  ;  pp.  152,  153. 

NOTE  K,  Page  143. 
This  sermon  was  preached  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  1833,  on  the  reli- 
gious festival  observed  by  the  Lutheran  church  in  memory  of  the  dead. 
Hence  the  allusions  to  the  scenery  of  nature,  etc..  in  the  Introduction.  It 
may  be  here  remarked,  that  Tholuck  disapproves  of  such  papal  festivities  as 
these  ;  but  avails  himself  of  their  observance,  as  a  means,  furnished  by  the 
prejudices  and  customs  of  the  people,  of  exciting  a  class  of  sentiments  and 
feelings  which  the  usual  services  of  the  sanctuary  leave  dormant.  Many 
of  his  brethren  defend  the  observance,  as  peculiarly  fitted  to  exert  a  salutary 
influence  on  the  religious  sensibilities,  to  strengthen  the  belief  in  the  soul's 
immortality,  and  enliven  the  hope  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  Its 
tendency,  however,  to  be  abused,  to  be  celebrated  with  undue  pomp,  to  be 
regarded  as  a  means  of  benefitting  the  dead,  to  enthrone  mere  humanity  in 
the  place  of  the  Deity,  is  admitted  by  the  more  considerate  of  its  advocates. 
For  a  notice  of  the  solemnity,  see  Augusti's  Handbuch  der  Christ.  Archaeol- 
ogie,  Vol.  III.  pp.  285,  286. 

NOTE  L,  Page  146. 

The  expression,  '  tasting  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come,'  is  frequently 
used  by  Tholuck  as  equivalent  to,  '  experiencing  the  powerful  influence  of 
those  truths  which  are  connected  with  eternity  and  heaven.'  The  word 
'tasted,'  in  the  passage  (Heb.  6:  5)  from  which  the  expression  is  taken,  ap- 
pears to  be  synonymous  with  'experienced,'  '  fully  experienced;'  see  1  Pet. 
2:  3.  Heb.  2:  9.  Prov.  31:  18,  and  other  passages  ;  the  phrase  '  powers  of  the 
world  to  come,'  appears  to  signify  the  miraculous  powers  given  to  the  early 
Christians,  and  which  attested  the  truth  of  their  religious  system.  That 
such  is  sometimes  the  meaning  of  the  word  drvuuig,  see  Mark  6:  14.  Acts  6: 
8.  11':  38.  Heb.  2:  4.  That  the  word  Alwv  may  denote  the  new  dispensation 
of  Christ,  see  Robinson's  Lex.  on  the  word  :  2.  b.  p.  The  literal  translation 
then  should  be,  '  miraculous  powers  of  the  dispensation  which  was  to  come.' 
See  Stuart  on  Heb.,  Vol.  II.  pp.  16,  66,  68,  142—4. 

NOTE  M,  Page  150. 

In  Tholuck's  first  Vol.  (1834)  of  sermons,  there  are  two  on  the  13th  chap- 
ter of  1  Cor.,  which  exhibit  the  peculiarities  of  his  feeling  on  his  favorite 
theme,  christian  love.    The  following  are  extracts. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


181 


"  What  is  love  ?  It  is  the  struggling  of  your  soul  to  give  up  every  thing 
of  value  which  you  have,  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  beloved  object,  to  empty  your- 
self of  your  own  self,  and  to  become  full  of  the  being  you  love,  and  of  all 
his  fullness.  You  have  often  seen  how  earthly  affection,  which  is 
but  an  image,  and  sometimes  but  a  caricature  of  the  everlasting  love, 
seeks  to  become  full  of  the  beloved  object ;  how  every  .sensibility  is 
excited  to  obtain  this  fulness;  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  hand,  the  whole 
spirit  long  to  be  full;  yea  even  the  mouth  is  open  to  take  in  the  breath  of 
the  loved  one.  Oh  ye  who  hang  with  all  the  fibres  of  your  system  upon 
a  creature  of  God,  and  long  after  that  creature,  have  you  ever  longed  in 
the  same  way  after  your  Creator  ?  Why  do  you  not  learn  what  is  the  bles- 
sedness of  the  faithful  one,  when  his  inmost  soul  lies  spread  out  in  holy 
prayer  before  God;  when  the  eye  lingers  upon  the  distant,  deep,  clear 
heaven,  the  fairest  emblem  of  the  boundlessness,  the  serenity,  and  the  mag- 
nificence of  that  love  which  first  loved  us  ;  when  his  ear  takes  in  no  earthly 
sound  ;  and  only  this  solitary  feeling  lives  in  his  soul, — oh  thou  Eternal  One, 
thou  art !  At  that  moment  he  sinks  into  the  Deity  ; — "  I  in  him,  thou  in  me, 
let  thyself  but  find  me,  and  I  vanish  away  within  thee."  Not  that  by  such 
an  afFectionate  surrender  to  the  Eternal  One,  the  Christian's  personal 
identity  ceases;  no,  his  spirit  is  rightly  manifested  and. developed  rather,  by 
his  reception  of  this  everlasting,  unfolding,  illuminating  and  enlivening 
power  of  love."  pp.  123,  124. 

After  saying  that  at  death  faith  shall  pass  away  into  vision,  and  with  it 
hope  ;  for  there  shall  then  be  no  more  a  future,  but  there  shall  be  an  eternal 
present,  he  proceeds, — "  But  love  shall  remain.  Yea,  not  only  shall  it  re- 
main, but  the  narrow  brook  which  in  this  life  flowed  from  deeply  hidden 
fountains,  will  in  that  life  become  a  wide  stream.  Here  love  could  be  pre- 
served only  while  the  eye  of  faith  held  the  invisible  world  directly  before 
itself.  Try  it,  shut  for  an  instant  this  internal  eye,  look  at  nothing  but  the 
visible  world,  and  thou  wilt  love  only  what  thou  seest.  Ah,  why  dost  thou 
hang  solely  upon  the  creatures  of  earth,  and  long  after  them  ;  why  but  be- 
cause thine  eye  of  faith  is  not  open,  and  thou  seest  not  the  invisible  glory 
of  the  Father's  image  ?  Couldst  thou  see  this,  thou  must  love  it  also  :  to 
see  the  invisible  and  to  love  him  is  the  same  thing.  But  when  there  shall 
be  no  more  need  of  this  intellectual  exertion,  when  the  thick  cloud  of  the 
earthly  vale  shall  no  longer  press  upon  the  eye  of  faith,  when  the  very  ob- 
ject in  which  we  here  faintly  believe,  shall  stand  constantly  before  our 
vision,  oh  how  easy  will  it  then  be  to  love.  The  death  of  the  believer  shall 
be  the  death  also  of  his  faith  and  hope,  but  it  shall  be  the  resurrection  hour 
of  his  love. 

This  is  the  reason  which  the  apostle  gives  us,  why  among  the  first  three 
virtues,  charity  stands  the  very  first.  Yet  seeing  that  it  will  remain  forever, 
it  exhibits  itself  also  in  another  relation  as  the  first  of  the  virtues.  Love  is 
the  state  of  mind  in  which  faith  is  produced,  and  in  which  it  is  perfected. 

First,  it  is  the  state  in  which  faith  is  produced.  Let  me  recal  your  at- 
tention to  what  has  been  previously  advanced,  that  as  all  matter  is  attracted 


182 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


by  a  mysterious  power  to  its  central  point,  so  likewise  in  the  realm  of  spirits 
there  is  a  resistless  power,  the  power  of  love,  which  attracts  to  the  Father 
all  spirits  which  have  come  forth  from  him.  In  every  heart  of  man  even 
the  darkest,  there  lies  hidden  under  a  thousand  coverings  of  night  a  holy 
seed  of  love  toward  God.  (See  Bibl.  Repository,  Vol.  VIII.  pp.  327,  328). 
What  is  it  that  allows  you  to  find  no  rest  in  any  of  the  inclinations  of  .or- 
dinary life  ?  What  is  it  that  allows  you  no  repose  anywhere  on  the  bosom 
of  created  nature  ?  What  is  it  that  leaves  you  constantly  to  exclaim,  oh  1 
must  have  something  further  by  which  my  soul  may  be  satisfied  ? — Brother, 
this  is  the  holy  seed  of  love  to  God,  which  is  swelling  within  thee,  and  will 
force  its  way  through  all  the  coverings  of  night.  Thou  knowest  not  what 
thou  seekest,  but  yet  thou  dost  seek  with  inextinguishable  thirst.  Some 
prophet-voices  sound  out.  to  thee,  and  preach  of  an  everlasting  good  in 
which  thy  soul  can  repose.  This  longing  of  thy  soul  urgeth  thee  to  an  act 
of  faith  ;  for  alas  the  hungry  man  must  believe  that  there  is  bread  for  him. 
Lo,  thine  undeveloped  love  toward  the  Source  of  all  good  becometh  in  this 
way,  the  very  state  of  mind,  which  causeththee  to  believe  in  things  invisible. 
And  when  the  dark  impulse  of  thy  love  hath  given  to  thee  an  assurance  that 
there  must  be  a  kingdom  of  the  spirit  and  of  the  truth,  in  which  thou  canst 
find  repose,  oh  then  he  who  is  the  King  of  the  land  of  truth,  needeth  but  to 
step  before  thine  eyes,  and  with  the  assurance  of  faith  thou  fallest  down 
before  his  feet.  Wherever  there  is  an  assurance,  that  there  must  be  a  land 
of  truth  which  maketh  blessed,  there  faith  in  the  King  of  that  land  is  a  very 
easy  act.  Behold,  in  this  undeveloped  love  is  illustrated  that  great  senti- 
ment, which  may  have  been  already  often  repeated  to  you. — '  The  things 
that  belong  to  men,  must  be  understood  in  order  that  they  may  be  loved  ; 
the  things  that  belong  to  God,  must  be  loved  in  order  that  they  may  be 
understood.'    (These  words  are  from  Paschal.) 

But,  secondly,  faith  is  also  perfected  in  love.  The  greater  the  certainty 
of  the  object  of  our  affection,  so  much  the  more  heartfelt  is  our  surrender  to 
it ;  the  more  heartfelt  our  surrender,  so  much  the  richer  is  our  ex- 
perience ;  the  richer  our  experience,  so  much  the  more  vivid  is  the 
certainty  of  the  object.  Thus  you  see  in  the  aged  disciples  of  the  Lord, 
to  whom  an  experience  of  seventy  years  has  made  certain  what  they 
believed,  how  familiar  they  are  with  invisible  things,  as  familiar  as  if 
these  things  lay  before  their  eyes  ;  how  they  scarcely  need  to  say,  1 1  be- 
lieve,' but  have  almost  the  certainty  of  vision.  Yea  more,  that  elevated 
passage  of  the  apostle  is  fulfilled  in  them  ; — '  There  is  reflected  from  us,  with 
unveiled  face,  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  and  we  are  transformed  into  the  same 
image  from  one  glory  to  another,  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord.'  Thou  wert 
sitting  in  a  dark  dungeon  under  the  earth,  and  in  thy  heart  was  an  inclina- 
tion for  the  light.  This  inclination  was  a  prophecy  for  thee,  that  there 
must  be  a  light;  and  thou  didst  believe  that  there  was  one,  even  before  its 
mild  shining  came  to  thine  eyes.  Thus  love  created  faith.  Through  a 
small  chink  there  came  into  thy  dungeon  messengers  from  the  mild  light ; 
and  they  greeted  thee  as  a  friend  ;  thou  gavest  thyself  up  to  them,  and  the 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


183 


reception  of  these  few  rays  made  thy  certainty  so  much  the  stronger  that 
there  must  be  a  sun.  Thus  faith  is  perfected  in  love.  Thou  shalt  one  day 
come  forth  from  the  dark  dungeon,  the  lull  sun  shall  pour  forth  all  its  beams 
upon  thy  face  ;  with  all  thy  sensibilities  thou  shalt  cherish  this  light  within 
thee;  thou  shalt  have  full  experience  how  this  light  is  the  light  of  life. 
Thy  perfect  experience  in  love  will  perfect  thy  faith.  And  this  perfection 
of  faith  will  also  be  the  end  of  it ;  for,  in  its  perfection,  it  will  vanish  away 
as  faith,  and  will  pass  into  vision,  just  as  the  blossoms  disappear  in  the 
fruit."  pp.  128 — 131. 

NOTE  N,  Page  130. 

"  What  is  it,  but  a  plan  for  the  elevation  of  human  nature  to  a  likeness 
with  God?"  The  literal  translation  would  be,  what  is  it  other  than  a 
deification  (eine  Vergottlichung)  of  the  human  nature  according  to  the  image 
of  Jesus  Christ.  The  employment  of  such  bold  phraseology  would  be  de- 
fended by  Tholuck,  by  a  reference  to  such  passages  as  2  Pet.  1:  4.  Heb.  3: 
14.  6:  4.  John  17:  21 — 23.  1  Cor.  6:  9,  and  numerous  others. 

NOTE  O,  Page  151. 

The  words  of  Inspiration,  to  which  reference  is  here  made,  are  connected 
so  intimately  with  the  whole  course  of  reasoning  on  pages  149 — 152,  that 
some  remarks  on  these  words,  and  on  the  train  of  argument  to  which  they 
give  rise,  here  and  in  other  passages  of  Tholuck,  may  not  be  inappropriate. 
It  is  a  course  of  refined  reasoning  to  which  Tholuck  seems  rather  peculiarly 
attached.  It  is  composed  of  such  elementary  principles  as  these  :  What  a 
reasonable  being  commences  he  will  continue ;  a  partial  fulfilment  of  a 
promise  indicates  its  complete  fulfilment ;  the  desires  that  God  has  implant- 
ed within  us  are  an  indication  that  he  will  gratify  them;  the  agreement  of 
witnesses  with  each  other  is  an  evidence  of  the  veracity  of  each  of 
them ;  etc. 

The  following  is  the  train  of  reasoning  and  of  appeal  to  Christian  sentiment, 
which  Tholuck  frequently  pursues.  He  supposes  that  our  Saviour  in  John 
5:  21 — 29  speaks  first,  verse  21,  of  both  resurrections,  the  spiritual  and  the 
physical ;  then,  verses  22,  24,  25,  of  the  spiritual  resurrection  alone,  and 
afterward,  verses  28,  29,  of  the  physical  alone.  Tholuck  represents  con- 
version as  the  beginning  of  the  resurrection  era,  as  the  first  step  of  that 
process  which  is  terminated  by  the  raising  of  the  body  from  the  grave, — see 
Rom.  8:  10,11;  and  sees  therefore  a  peculiar  propriety  in  our  Saviour's 
combining,  in  his  discourse,  allusions  to  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  this 
resuscitative  agency  of  God.  He  says,  that  to  one  who  has  been  made  a 
partaker  of  the  first,  i.  e.  the  spiritual  resurrection,  '  there  is  no  difference 
in  point  of  fact  between  this  world  and  the  world  to  come ;'  such  an  one  is 
regarded  by  God  1  as  glorified  for  all  eternity,  Rom.  8:  30;'  he  has  already 
received  the  life,  which  is  to  be  perfected  in  heaven  and  to  constitute  heaven 
John  4:  14.  6:  58 ; — he  is  not  to  pass  from  death  to  life,  for  this  he  has  done, 
1  John  3:  14,  but  only  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  degree  of  life.    Christ  de- 


184 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


clares  then,  John  5:  25,  that  under  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  sinners 
'  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God,'  i.  e.  obtain  an  internal  perception 
or  apprehension  of  the  truth ;  and  under  the  influence  of  the  truth  thus 
apprehended  the  dead  "  shall  live,"  i.  e.  sinners  shall  be  converted,  transla- 
ted from  the  kingdom  of  death  to  that  of  life.  Having  already  been  thus 
translated  from  death  to  life,  at  the  moment  of  conversion,  they  have  already 
obtained  heaven,  not  indeed  in  its  fulness  but  in  its  essential  characteristic. 
They  are  sure  of  eternal  life,  because  they  are  even  conscious  of  it  as  al- 
ready commenced  in  their  souls.  The  prediction  that  they  shall  have  life 
is  already  in  part  fulfilled,  and  thereby  warrants  the  expectation  of  an  entire 
fulfilment.  There  is  an  exact  coincidence  between  the  testimony  of  Scripture 
on  the  subject  of  eternal  life  and  the  testimony  of  the  Christian's  feeling  ; 
and  the  coincidence  of  the  two  indicates  the  credibility  of  the  scriptural 
promises.  As  the  Christian  feels  the  promised  life  in  his  own  soul  even 
now,  he  instinctively  expects,  without  evidence  to  the  contrary,  that  this 
life  will  continue,  just  as  he  expects,  without  evidence  to  the  contrary,  that 
the  laws  of  the  universe  will  continue.  These  seem  to  be  the  elementary 
principles  of  the  second  argument ;  that  on  pp.  150 — 152. 

The  first  argument,  that  on  pp.  140,  150,  is  of  the  same  character.  It  has 
had  an  influence  on  many  minds  which  denied  its  logical  authority.  It  is 
an  appeal  to. a  constitutional  feeling,  which  cannot  be  reasoned  away  more 
than  it  can  be  excited  by  reasoning.  As  the  longing  after  immortality  has 
inspired  many  a  heathen  with  a  strong  hope  for  it,  and  expectation  of  it,  so 
the  consciousness  of  an  impatience  to  find  rest  in  God,  and  of  an  inability  to 
find  rest  out  of  God,  the  strong  drawing  forth  of  the  affections  toward  him, 
the  desire  of  an  intimacy,  a  oneness  with  him,  has  itself  caused  many  a 
Christian  to  expect  the  blessedness  that  was  so  intensely  craved.  Did  God 
implant  this  desire  only  to  disappoint  it?  See  this  principle  beautifully 
illustrated  in  Tholuck's  Sermons,  Vol.  I.  p.  31.  And  again,  the  harmony 
between  the  spiritual  views  of  the  renewed  man  and  the  doctrines  of  the 
Gospel,  between  his  spiritual  feelings  and  the  promises  of  the  Gospel,  is  in 
itself  an  argument  in  favor  of  the  fulfilment  of  those  promises, — as  the 
coincidence  of  two  distinct  testimonies  is  an  independent  argument  for  the 
correctness  of  each  of  them.  This  spirituality  of  emotion  is  also  felt  to  be  a 
specimen  of  what  is  promised,  the  first  fruits  of  the  harvest,  a,  pledge  that  the 
divine  revelation  will  not  disappoint  the  believer.  It  is  felt  to  be  so,  even 
when  the  feeling  cannot  be  defended  by  any  logical  formula.  Every  child 
knows  the  force  of  the  argument  derived  from  an  '  earnest,'  a  '  foretaste.' 
When  favors  are  promised  him  and  he  actually  receives  some  of  them,  he 
feels  renewed  confidence  in  the  sincerity  of  the  whole  promise.  When 
great  preparations  are  made,  he  anticipates  some  correspondent  results. 

These  elementary  principles,  when  examined  one  by  one,  do  not  seem  so 
logically  convincing,  as  they  are  felt  to  be  when  exhibited  collectively  in  an 
argument.  See  the  application  of  some  of  them  in  Rom.  5:  5 — 11.  Phil.  1: 
6.  2  Cor.  1:  22.  5:  5.  Gal.  1:  13,  14. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


185 


NOTE  P,  Page  153. 


Appended  to  the  volume  containing  this  sermon,  is  one  of  the  hymns 
which  was  sung,  when  the  sermon  was  delivered  ;  and  appended  to  the 
hymn  is  the  following  note.  "  This  is  the  second  time  that  this  hymn  has 
been  sung  at  the  University  church-service,  to  the  very  excellent  tune  com- 
posed by  the  music-director  Mr.  Naue,to  whose  interested  zeal  the  liturgical 
part  of  divine  worship  is  on  all  occasions  very  much  indebted.  The  im- 
pression, especially  that  which  was  made  by  the  last  words,  as  sung  by  the 
University-choir  alone,  will  be  forgotten  by  no  one."  p.  173.  An  American 
clergyman,  present  on  the  occasion,  says,  "  It  was  impossible  to  refrain  from 
tears,  when  at  the  seventh  stanza,  all  the  trumpets  ceased,  and  the  choir,  ac- 
companied by  a  softened  tone  of  the  organ,  sung  these  touching  lines, 
1  Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus  ?"  etc.  The  hymn  referred  to  is  part  of  the 
Catholic  requiem,  or  mass  for  the  souls  of  the  dead.  It  is  the  "  Dies  Irae," 
composed  by  Thomas  von  Celano,  a  Minorite,  about  the  year  1250-  It  has 
been  set  to  music  by  Mozart,  and  several  other  composers,  and  has  been 
translated  into  several  different  languages.  Goethe  has  introduced  a  few 
stanzas  of  it  into  his  Faust ;  and  Scott,  a  few  into  his  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel,  p.  150,  JBost.  Ed.,  see  Church  Ps.  Hymn  G29.  But  no  translation 
has  equalled  or  can  equal  the  original  Latin.  As  this  is  not  accessible  to 
the  mass  of  readers,  it  is  given  below,  accompanied  with  the  best  literal 
translation  of  it  into  English,  which  we  have  seen.    See  Christian  Observer, 


Vol.  XXVI,  p.  26. 


Dies  irae,  dies  ilia 
Solvet  saeclum  in  favilla, 
Teste  David  cum  Sibylla. 


On  that  great,  that  awful  day, 
This  vain  world  shall  pass  away. 
Thus  the  Sybil  sung  of  old  ; 
Thus  hath  holy  David  told. 
There  shall  be  a  deadly  fear 
When  the  Avenger  shall  appear, 
And,  unveiled  before  his  eye, 
All  the  works  of  man  shall  lie  ! 


Quantus  tremor  est  futurus, 
Quando  Judex  est  venturus, 
Cuncta  stricte  discussurus  ! 


Tuba  mi  rum  spargens  sonum 
Per  sepulchra  regionum, 
Coget  omnes  ante  thronum. 


Hark  !  to  the  great  trumpet's  tones, 
Pealing  o'er  the  place  of  bones. 
Hark  !  it  waketh  from  their  bed 
All  the  nations  of  the  dead, 
In  a  countless  throng  to  meet 
At  the  eternal  judgment  seat. 
Nature  sickens  With  dismay  : 
Death  may  not  retain  his  prey  ; 
And  before  the  Maker  stand 
All  the  creatures  of  his  hand. 


Mors  stupebit,  et  natura, 
Cum  resurget  creatura, 
Judicanti  responsura. 


Liber  scriptus  proferetur, 
In  quo  totum  continetur, 
Unde  mundus  judicetur. 


24 


186 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


Judex  ergo  cum  sedebit, 
Quidquid  latet  apparebit, 
Nil  inultum  remanebit. 

Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dieturus, 
Quern  patronum  rogaturus, 
Cum  vix  justus  sit  securus  ? 

Rex  tremcndie  majestatis, 
Qui  salvandos  salvas  gratis, 
Salva  me,  Fons  pietatis. 

Recordare,  Jesu  pie, 
Quod  sum  causa  tuce  vire 
Ne  me  perdas  ilia  die. 

Queerens  me,  sedisti  lassus, 
Redemisti  crucem  passus  : 
Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus. 

Juste  judex  ultionis, 
Donum  fac  remissionis, 
Ante  diem  rationis. 

lngemisco  tanquam  reus, 
Culpa  rubet  vultus  meus  ; 
Supplicanti  parce,  Deus. 

Qui  Mariam  absolvisti, 
Et  latronem  exaudisti, 
Mihi  quoque  spem  dedisti. 

Preces  mea)  non  sunt  digna?, 
Sed  tu,  bone,  fac  benigne, 
Ne  perenni  cremcr  igne  ! 

Inter  oves  locum  praesta, 
Et  ab  hsedis  me  sequestra, 
Statuens  in  parte  dextra. 

Confutatis  nialedictis, 
Flammis  acribus  addictis, 
Voca  me  cum  benedictis. 

Oro  tristis,  et  acclinis, 
Cor  contritum  quasi  cinis  : 
Gere  curam  mei  finis. 


The  great  book  shall  be  unfurled, 
Whereby  God  shall  judge  the  world 
What  was  distant  shall  be  near; 
What  was  hidden  shall  be  clear. 

To  what  shelter  shall  1  fly  ? 
To  what  guardian  shall  1  cry  ? 
Oh  in  that  destroying  hour, 
Source  of  goodness,  Source  of  power 
Show  thou,  of  thine  own  free  grace, 
Help  unto  a  helpless  race. 

Though  I  plead  not  at  thy  throne 
Aught  that  1  for  thee  have  done, 
Do  not  thou  unmindful  be 
Of  what  thou  hast  borne  for  me  ; 
Of  the  wandering,  of  the  scorn, 
Of  the  scourge,  and  of  the  thorn. 

Jesus,  hast  thou  borne  the  pain ; 
And  hath  all  been  borne  in  vain  ? 
Shall  thy  vengeance  smite  the  head 
For  whose  ransom  thou  hast  bled? 
Thou  whose  dying  blessing  gave 
Glory  to  a  guilty  slave  ; 
Thou  who  from  the  crew  unclean 
Didst  release  the  Magdalene  ; 
Shall  not  mercy  vast  and  free 
Evermore  be  found  in  thee  ? 

Father,  turn  on  me  thine  eyes  : 
See  my  blushes,  hear  my  cries  ; 
Faint  though  be  the  prayers  I  make, 
Save  me,  for  thy  mercy's  sake, 
From  the  torments  of  thine  ire, 
From  the  worm  and  from  the  fire  ; 
Fold  me  with  the  sheep  that  stand 
Pure  and  safe  at  thy  right  hand. 
Hear  thy  guilty  child  implore  thee, 
Rolling  in  the  dust  before  thee. 
Oh  the  horrors  of  the  day 
When  this  frame  of  sinful  clay, 
Starting  from  its  burial  place, 
Must  behold  thee  face  to  face. 
Hear  and  pity  ;  hear  and  aid  ; 
Spare  the  creatures  thou  hast  made. 
Mercy,  mercy  !  save,  forgive  ; 
Or  who  shall  look  on  Thee  and  live? 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


187 


Lacrymosa  die  ilia  Judicandus  homo  reus, 

Qua  resurget  ex  favilla,  Huic  ergo  parce,  Deus. 


NOTE  Q,  Page  154. 

This  discourse  Tholuck  in  his  index  calls  a  homily.  His  reviewer  however 
in  the  Stud,  und  Krit,  Vol.  VIII.  p.  245,  objects  to  this  designation  ;  because 
the  sermon  is  as  regular  and  strictly  logical  in  its  plan  as  any  other,  and  the 
main  idea  of  a  homily  as  distinct  from  a  sermon,  is  that  it  embraces  a  variety 
of  dissimilar  trains  of  thought,  which  though  loosely  connected  are  yet  re- 
duced into  some  unity  of  arrangement.    The  analysis  is  as  follows. 

Text ;  division  ;  p.  154.  First,  the  reproaches  and  indignities  which  Christ 
suffered,  are  a  means  of  illustrating  his  character,  and  an  argument  for  the 
elevating  truth,  that  God  s  providence  and  government  are  universal ;  pp. 
] 54,  155.  Secondly,  the  faith  which  the  penitent  thief  exercised  in  Christ, 
at  the  time  of  Christ's  lowest  humiliation,  is  a  reproof  to  us  for  our  want  of 
faith,  at  the  time  of  Christ's  exaltation  ;  pp.  156,  157,  158.  Causes  and 
process  of  the  malefactor's  faith  ;  p.  157.  Peculiar  reasons  for  faith  in 
modern  times;  pp.  157,158.  Thirdly,  the  mode  in  which  the  repentance 
of  a  sinner  at  the  end  of  life  is  liable  to  be  abused  by  his  survivors  ;  p.  158. 
Folly  of  deferring  repentance  to  a  future  period  ;  p.  15D.  Fourthly,  the 
mercy  of  God  in  pardoning  a  sinner  at  the  termination  of  a  wicked  life,  is  a 
source  of  rich  consolation,  p.  160.  The  sad  state  of  one,  who  has  passed  all 
hope  of  salvation  ;  illustrates  by  contrast  the  happy  state  of  those  who  still 
enjoy  opportunities  for  obtaining  heaven  ;  pp.  160,  161,  Conclusion  ;  p.  161. 

NOT^E  R,  Page  158. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  one  particular,  in  which  the  discourses  of  Tholuck  ap- 
pear to  be  more  happily  conformed  to  the  apostolical  standard,  than  in  their 
frequent  and  rich  development  of  the  nature  and  value  of  faith.  This  grace 
they  everywhere  exhibit  as  a  peculiarity  of  evangelical  religion.  It  is  to  be 
feared  that  its  distinctive  nature  is  too  much  overlooked  in  the  American 
pulpit;  and  that  it  is  too  often  merged  into  the  generic  duty  of  obedience,  or 
love  to  God.  A  dignified  and  distinguishing  characteristic  of  evangelical 
religion  is  thus  neglected;  and  the  variety  of  several  specific  duties  is  sacri- 
ficed to  the  monotony  of  a  single  general  one.  The  following  are  a  few  of 
Tholuck's  many  illustrations  of  Christian  faith. 

"  The  faith  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  is  an  undoubted  certainty  of  that  which 
man  cannot  see.  We  have  five  senses,  by  which  the  visible  world  comes  be- 
fore our  observation.  Faith  is  a  new  sense,  a  new  eye,  by  which  the  in- 
visible world  comes  before  our  observation.  Whoever  has  this  eye  of  faith 
walks  among  objects  distinctly  perceived  by  him,  but  unperceived  by  others. 
The  mind  that  has  faith  understands  what  the  Christmas  morning  is,  and 
the  cradle  with  the  child  of  God  ;  what  the  Easter  morning  is,  with  the 
Prince  of  life  who  has  overcome  death ;  what  the  Ascension  morning  is,  with 


188  NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 

the  Captain  of  our  salvation,  elevated  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Father,  so 
that  he  may  prepare  a  place  for  us ;  What  the  opened  heaven  is,  and  the 
glory  of  the  throne  of  God,  with  the  thousand  of  thousands  of  his  holy 
angels  ;  what  the  rent  veil  of  the  abyss  is,  and  the  uncovered  deep,  where 
the  worm  gnaws  that  never  dies.  The  world  say  of  such  a  man,  he  is  a 
fanatic  ;  will  you  be  angry  with  them  for  saying  so  ?  You  cannot — you 
cannot  be  angry  with  the  blind  man  because  he  does  not  see  what  you  see. 
But  truly  they  should  not  deny,  that  there  is  another  sense,  besides  those 
five  senses  of  which  they  arc  conscious — a  sense  of  which  John  testifies, 
'  He  hath  given  unto  us  a  faculty  that  we  should  discern  him  who  is  true  :' 
1  John  5:  20.  You  perceive  then  how  rich  you  are  made  by  faith.  You 
often  say,  '  ah  poor  blind  men  !  over  the  heaven  and  upon  the  earth  is  so 
great  glory  spread  out,  and  you  can  perceive  none  of  it, — ah,  by  the  whole 
world  are  you  poorer  than  we."    Vol.  1.  p.  120. 

"  The  certainty  which,  through  faith,  we  now  have  of  the  invisible  world, 
is  a  certainty  that  stands  opposed  to  every  thing  lying  before  our  visual 
sense.  The  chain  of  cause  and  effect  pervades  the  immensity  of  all  created 
things  and  seems  to  give  a  reason  and  ground  for  every  event  that  occurs. 
But  you  must  believe  that  the  last  link  of  this  chain  hangs  upon  the 
invisible  finger  of  the  Father  of  Jesus  Christ;  and  that  it  is  his  invisible 
breath  which  sets  all  the  links  in  motion.  As  kings  and  lords  of  destiny, 
the  children  of  men  seem  to  walk  over  the  earth  ;  according  to  his  own 
mere  pleasure,  the  insolent  monarch  hurls  thousands  into  the  abyss  of 
wretchedness;  unconstrained,  the  father  of  lies  moves  with  his  children 
through  the  world,  and  scatters  his  seeds  of  tares  by  day  as  well  as  by  night; 
and  yet  thou  shouldst  have  faith,  that  from  every  head  and  every  hand  an 
invisible  cord  goeth  up  to  the  clouds,  and  that  all  these  cords  run  together 
into  the  hand  of  eternal  wisdom  and  righteousness  ;  thou  shouldst  believe,  that 
above  all  this  lamentation  and  confusion  and  strife  a  kingsitteth  enthroned, 
who  can  say  at  any  instant  to  the  swelling  waves,  '  thus  far  and  no  farther.' 
Here  thou  beholdest  him,  who  had  not  where  he  might  lay  his  head  ;  and 
thou  must  have  faith  that  the  reins  of  the  government  of  the  world  lie  in 
his  perforated  hand.  Here  thou  beholdest  the  Son  of  man,  whom  human 
beings  smite  in  the  face,  and  upon  whose  sacred  head  they  press  the  crown 
of  thorns,  and  thou  must  believe  that  under  his  unsightly  apparel  the  thun- 
ders of  heaven  repose.  Thou  seest  that  the  disciples  of  him  who  promised 
to  his  own,  that  they  should  judge  the  angels,  wander  over  the  earth  like 
other  children  of  earth,  their  brow  covered  with  sweat,  and  the  tear  in  their 
eye;  and  thou  must  believe  with  full  assurance,  that  if  we  suffer  with  him, 
so  shall  we  also  reign  with  him.  The  course  of  human  events  is  a  dark 
enigma  of  syllables  ;  one  and  another  syllable  of  it  thou  mayest  solve,  but 
the  whole  word  no  one  can  decipher.  How  hard  it  is  for  the  eye,  upon 
which  presses  the  cloud  of  this  earthly  vale,  to  raise  itself  upward ;  oh  how 
often  is  poor  man,  who  ought  to  be  superior  to  all  finite  things,  weary  even 
with  holy  services  !  This  kind  of  assurance,  which  believers  have  of  the 
upper  world,  shall  one  day  cease.  What  thou  hast  believed,  thou  shalt  one 
day  see  :  as  thou  hast  expected  so  shall  be  the  actual  fact. — Thou  shalt  see 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


189 


how  all  the  strings  from  all  hearts  and  all  heads  run  together  into  one 
heavenly  hand  ;  thou  shalt  see  the  Holy  One  of  God,  who  here  wore  the  crown 
of  thorns,  wear  the  crown  of  heaven  ;  thou  shalt  see  those,  who  sowed  with 
tears,  reap  and  bind  their  sheaves  with  joy  ;  thou  shalt  see  those  who  had 
not  where  they  might  lay  their  head,  sitting  at  the  royal  wedding  feast,  at 
the  right  and  the  left  of  the  Son  of  man.  As  the  poet  says,  "  The  inward 
life  of  the  Christian  is  resplendent,  although  its  splendor  is  veiled  by  his 
earthly  condition.  What  the  King  of  heaven  hath  given  to  him,  is  known 
to  no  one  but  himself.  What  no  one  can  feel,  what  no  one  can  touch, 
embellishes  his  enlightened  mind,  and  raises  it  to  a  God-like  dignity."  Vol. 
I.  pp.  125,  6,  7. 

Faith  and  hope  and  charity,  the  chief  of  the  Christian  virtues  "  make  a 
concord  of  three  tones,  which  exhibits  an  analogy  to  the  divine  Three  in 
One.  Faith,  which  is  the  firm  conviction  respecting  that  whole  realm  which 
lies  above  the  senses,  corresponds  with  the  original  ground  of  the  Godhead, 
from  which  every  thing  has  proceeded  ;  that  is,  with  the  Father.  Hope 
corresponds  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  will  one  day  conduct  everything 
within  us  to  its  completion.  Love  corresponds  with  him,  by  whom  and  in 
whom  the  original  occult  ground  of  the  Godhead,  with  its  whole  fulness, 
has  come  near  unto  men  and  through  all  eternity  will  communicate  itself 
to  them.  So  likewise  among  the  apostles,  each  tone  of  this  holy  concord 
has  found  its  own  representative.  Paul  is  the  preacher  of  faith,  John  is  the 
preacher  of  love,  and  Peter  in  the  first  of  his  Epistles  is  the  preacher  of  hope. 
All  however  without  distinction,  Peter  and  James  not  excepted,  give  the 
chief  praise  to  love."    Vol.  I.  p.  124. 

NOTE  S,  Page  161. 

This  discourse  also  Tholuck  denominates  a  homily  ;  though  the  arrange- 
ment of  its  thoughts  is  synthetic,  and  more  conformed  to  the  rules  for  a 
sermon,  than  that  of  the  majority  of  his  discourses:  see  Stud,  und  Krit., 
Vol.  VIII.  p.  245. 

The  above-named  reviewer  of  Tholuck's  sermons  cites  the  passage  on  pp. 
164,  5,  beginning  with  '  The  Holy,  the  Unknown,"  ending  with  1  everlasting 
life.'  as  a  distinctive  illustration  of  our  author's  style.  The  following  is  the 
analysis  of  this  discourse. 

Introduction  ;  comparison  between  the  state  of  the  anxious,  and  that  of 
the  careless  sinner;  pp.  161,  2.  Text ;  does  God  or  man  take  the  first  step 
in  the  renovation  of  the  heart;  p.  162.  Division;  how  does  God  display 
himself  to  man  in  the  work  of  creation  ;  happiness  of  living  with  the  heart- 
felt recognition,  misery  of  living  without  such  a  recognition  of  the  creating 
and  preserving  love  of  God  ;  pp.  163,  4.  God  becomes  intelligible  in  Christ; 
our  own  characters  also  become  intelligible  in  him;  pp.  164,5.  Ne- 
cessity of  the  Spirit's  influences;  nearness  of  the  Spirit  to  man; 
utility  of  his  instructions ;  p.  166.  The  will  of  man  must  cooperate 
with  the  agency  of  the  Spirit ;  importance  of  solitary  meditation  on  the  love 


190 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


of  God  ;  p.  1G7.  Importance  of  studying  the  Bible,  especially  the  history 
of  Christ;  p.  iuS.  Importance  of  cherishing  the  influences  of  the  Spirit; 
of  praying  to  the  Spirit;  pp.  1G8,  9.  Reflex  influence  of  supplication  upon 
the  heart  of  the  suppliant;  exhortation  to  prayer  as  a  means  of  exciting  the 
proper  spirit  of  prayer;  p.  1(59.  Conclusion;  p.  ]70. 

NOTE  T,  Page  102. 

One  object  in  translating  this  discourse  has  been  to  exhibit  the  manner  in 
which  Tholuck,  in  unison  with  other  evangelical  divines  on  the  continent, 
exhorts  the  unregenerate  to  perform  certain  duties,  which  are  not  only 
anterior  to,  but  conditions  of  the  renovating  influence  of  the  Spirit.  It  is 
common  to  charge  the  American  divines,  who  recommend  1  unregenerate 
doings,'  with  recommending  a  sinful  course  of  effort  as  essential  to  subse- 
quent holiness.  But  the  peculiar  philosophy  of  Tholuck  must  exempt  him 
from  the  charge  of  exhorting  to  sin.  as  a  means  of  good.  His  philosophy  is 
here  styled  peculiar,  not  in  its  relation  to  that  of  his  own  countrymen,  nor 
to  that  of  some  evangelical  divines  in  Great  Britain.  Jeremy  Taylor  for  ex- 
ample, nor  to  that  of  many  of  the  Fathers  in  the  Latin  and  the  Greek 
church  ;  for  these  have  adopted  the  same  philosophy  :  but  it  is  styled 
peculiar,  in  its  relation  to  the  prevailing  philosophy  of  American  divines. 
Tholuck  supposes,  that  the  deep  depravity  of  our  race  does  not  preclude  the 
existence  of  good  inclinations  in  the  heart,  but  rather  that  it  consists  in  the 
entire  subjugation  of  these  good  inclinations  to  the  evil;  that  regeneration  is 
the  restoring  of  the  rightful  authority  and  predominance  to  the  good  over 
the  evil ;  that  the  work  of  regeneration  is  performed  by  the  Spirit  in  com- 
pliance with  the  desires  and  yearnings  of  the  good  principle,  as  it  struggles 
under  the  oppression  of  the  bad  ;  and  that  the  unregenerate,  overpowered 
sinner  is  bound  to  do  all  that  in  the  nature  of  the  case  he  can  do,  that  is, 
contend  against  the  principle  which  enslaves  him,  and  cry  for  deliverance  to 
that  Power  which  will  rc-organize  the  inner  man,  and  fortify  the  good  in- 
clinations against  the  evil.  These  unregenerate  strugglings  are  of  course 
not  the  immediate  condition  of  eternal  life,  but  of  the  commencement  of  the 
spiritual  life;  they  are  not  saving  acts,  but  pre-requisite  to  such  as  are 
saving;  they  are  not  sinful,  neither  are  they  neutral ;  they  are  positively 
good,  and  pleasing  to  Jehovah,  and  yet  are  destitute  of  that '  new  life,'  that 
mysterious  '  new  principle,'  which  is  the  creation  of  the  Spirit  alone,  and 
which,  in  the  established  economy  of  grace,  is  the  indispensable  condition 
of  future  blessedness.  <  Christ  teaches,'  says  Tholuck,  '  that  there  is  indeed 
a  truth  lying  at  the  base  of  deism,  inasmuch  as  deism  maintains  that  there  is  in 
the  heart  of  man  a  divine  voice,  or  revelation  implanted  by  God, — that  there 
is  something  there  akin  to  God;'  ;  instead  of  a  will,  single  and  in  uni- 
son with  the  divine  will,  man  has  a  divided  volition,  which  acts  feebly 
in  concert  with  God,  but  whose  strongest  impulses  are  selfish  and 
arbitrary  ;'  '  when  with  firm  decision  conscience  holds  rigorous  duty 
up  to  man,  there  is  a  secret  stirring  which  moves  him  to  its  performance, 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


191 


but  an  unbridled  lust,  which  lies  at  its  side,  starts  up  like  a  Cyclop,  awaking 
from  his  sleep  and  demanding  gratification  ;'  f  my  higher  I,  (my  feeble  in- 
clination of  the  heart  toward  God  ),  '  my  proper  I  (it  is  here  .acknowledged 
that  the  root  of  man  is  God-like,  that  evil  is  not  the  substance  of  his  being), 
is  on  the  side  of  the  divine  law,  so  that  the  evil  I  do  is  done  by  that  over- 
powering, blind  impulse  within  me,  which  as  a  trespasser  has  obtruded  itself 
into  my  God-like  nature  ;'  '  I  u-ill  always  to  do  good  (according  to  the  self- 
denying.  God-like  but  feebler  inclination  of  my  will),  but  1  am  not  able,' 
'human  nature  is  a  frightful  region  of  night,  over  which,  as  over  the 
plains  of  Baku,  low  sacred  flames  of  fire  run  ;'  1  the  drawing  of  the  Father, 
spoken  of  in  John  G:  44,  consists  in  the  divine  voice  of  the  soul,  which  be- 
comes audible  in  the  longing  after  a  union  with  God;'  '  it  depends  upon 
the  determination  of  the  will,  whether  this  drawing  becomes  effectual ;'  1  in 
the  words  of  Theophylact,  As  the  magnet  does  not  attract  everything,  but 
only  iron,  so  there  must  be  in  man  a  certain  state  of  mind,  (that  is,  he  must 
not  suppress  the  divine  incitements  within),  if  the  attractions  of  God  are  to 
be  efficacious.' 

From  the  point  of  observation  furnished  by  our  philosophy,  such  remarks 
as  the  preceding  may  appear  to  some,  inconsistent  with  the  doctrines  of  our 
natural  and  entire  depravity,  and  our  complete  dependence  upon  the  gra- 
cious influences  of  the  Spirit.  But  it  is  the  prerogative  of  a  narrow  and  un- 
generous mind,  to  strive  to  press  the  free-hearted  reasonings  of  such  a  man 
as  Tholuck  into  the  mould  of  a  philosophy,  which,  however  true,  he  un- 
happily discards,  and  which,  though  important  is  not  essential,  as  the 
writings  of  Tholuck  everywhere  evince,  to  the  vitality  and  elastic  power  of 
the  evangelical  system. 

NOTE  U,  Page  162. 

The  sermon  immediately  preceding  this  in  the  first  of  Tholuck's  volumes, 
is  on  the  Omnipresence  of  God,  from  Jeremiah  23:  23,  Am  I  not  a  God  who 
is  near,  and  not  a  God  who  is  afar  off"?  etc.  The  object  is  to  show,  first, 
what  the  Scriptures  teach  concerning  the  omnipresence  of  God,  and  secondly, 
what  feelings  are  excited  by  this  doctrine,  first,  in  the  bosom  of  the  regener- 
ate, and  secondly,  in  the  bosom  of  the  unregenerate.  Under  the  first 
general  division  are  several  ideas,  which  are  here  introduced,  as  intimately 
connected  with  the  sermon  to  which  this  note  refers,  and  as  illustrating 
some  of  the  peculiarities  of  Tholuck's  habit  of  thought. 

<:  What  does  the  Holy  Scripture  teach  us  concerning  the  divine  omni- 
presence ?  A  dark  consciousness  of  this  truth  has  gone  through  all  the  in- 
habitants of  the  heathen  world.  They  indeed  did  not  suppose  themselves  to 
be  surrounded,  on  all  sides,  by  the  Being  before  whom  their  knees  bowed, 
and  who,  in  his  external  manifestations,  was  at  all  times  equally  near  them. 
From  the  deep  vale  they  climbed  to  the  mountain  top,  that  they  might  ap- 
proach nearer  to  the  all-cherishing  Power,  which  holds  and  conducts  the 
universe.    They  hastened  from  their  homes  k)  the  distant  holy  places,  where 


192 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


the  heaven  bends  down  lower  to  the  suppliant.  And  yet  none  the  less  on 
this  account  did  a  dark  consciousness  say  to  them,  that  he  whom  they 
sought  was  with  them,  even  before  they  went  out  after  him.  In  the  power 
of  conscience,  have  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  paid  homage  to  the  omni- 
present God.  Deep  in  the  breast  is  it  planted,  that  inexplicable  power— a 
spirit  so  mild,  so  dim-sighted,  so  delicate,  which  can  be  reduced  to  silence 
so  easily  ;  and  yet  again,  a  power  which  whenever  it  raises  its  menacing 
finger,  prostrates  the  affrighted  mortal  upon  the  earth.  In  your  own  breast, 
in  that  which  you  call  your  inmost  me,  it  has  established  its  throne,  and  still 
it  accosts  you  from  that  same  throne  with  a  Thou,  and  you  must  serve  it. 
How  did  that  celestial  power  find  its  way  into  your  inward  nature?  What 
a  wonder,  that  in  this  secret  place  of  the  bosom  of  all  men  who  dwell  on  the 
earth,  the  mystery  of  the  omnipresent  God  should  have  been  foreboded  and 
felt !  Oh  that  those  of  you,  whose  ear  is  closed  to  the  preaching  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  might  at  least  listen  to  those  clear  voices,  which  in  the 
minstrels  of  the  ancient  Pagan  world,  have  testified  prophetically  concerning 
the  power  of  conscience,  as  of  the  omnipresent  God  ;  '  concerning  those 
primeval  laws,  as  an  old  poet  of  Greece  calls  them,  which  have  come  down 
from  on  high,  have  been  proclaimed  from  the  firmament  of  heaven,  which 
no  frail  human  nature  has  devised,  and  which  oblivion  will  never  bury,  in 
which  a  great  God  rules,  whose  years  never  fail.'  Even  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures, my  worshipping  friends,  instruct  us  to  seek  the  omnipresent  Deity, 
first,  within  the  sanctuary  of  our  own  bosom.  Is  it  not  the  consciousness  of 
the  inward  presence  of  Jehovah,  which  led  the  Psalmist  to  say,  Whither 
shall  1  flee  from  thy  Spirit  ?  etc.  Ps.  139:  7—10.  It  was  the  Spirit,  the  face 
of  Jehovah,  which  accompanied  the  Psalmist  in  all  places  ;  he  was  conscious 
of  this  Spirit  abiding  within  him,  whether  he  should  ascend  toward  heaven,  or 
make  his  bed  in  hell ;  this  Spirit  who  reproveth  men  for  sin,  this  Divine 
countenance  which  looketh  upon  men  with  flaming  eyes,  went  with  the 
Psalmist  wherever  he  went. — When  the  apostle  enters  Athens,  he  cannot 
refer,  as  he  generally  does,  to  that  word  of  God,  which  Israel  has  on  its  roll 
of  parchment ;  but  he  refers  to  a  yet  more  ancient  word  of  God,  within  the 
human  breast.  He  announces  that  Jehovah  has  made  men,  in  order  that 
they  may  seek  after  him  and  find  him,  and  indeed  he  is  not  far  from  every 
one  of  us.  To  find  the  Deity,  after  whom  they  were  hastening  to  and  fro 
over  all  the  earth,  after  whom  they  had  stretched  out  their  hands  with 
longing  desire  upon  the  heights  of  the  mountains,  he  directs  them  to  their 
own  bosom,  where  God  is  present  without  limitation  of  space  and  time. 
To  what  else  refers  that  remarkable,  mysterious  declaration  of  the  Lord,  that 
'  whoso  heareth  and  learneth  of  the  Father  cometh  unto  me  ;'  (that  is,  whoso 
attendeth  to  the  voice  speaking  within  him,  which  is  the  voice  of  the  pres- 
ent God,  is  united  to  God  ;  see  Tholuck  on  John  6:  45.)  Oh  that  the  be- 
loved Father  would  endue  me  with  grace,  that  I  may  rightly  apply  to  your 
hearts  this  one  passage  at  least,  a  passage  so  rich  in  meaning.  Oh  man, 
man !  how  highly  honored  art  thou,  that  he,  who  hath  made  heaven  and 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


193 


earth  will,  within  thee,  instruct  thee  concerning  himself.  I  pray  you,  let 
no  one  go  to  day  from  this  house  of  God,  without  hearing  it  sounding  in- 
cessantly in  his  spirit,  Whoso  heareth  and  learneth  of  the  Father,  the  same 
cometh  to  me.  According  to  this  word  of  the  Lord,  there  is  an  altar  of 
divine  revelation  in  every  hreast  of  man;  a  sacred  ark|of  the  covenant  in 
which  lies  the  law  of  God,  written  with  characters  that  cannot  be  obliterated, 
and  over  which  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  sitteth  enthroned,  and  speaketh  to 
men,  and  pointeth  them  to  the  Son  of  his  love,  where  the  grieved  ones  are 
refreshed."  Vol.  1.  pp.  CI — 64. 

"  The  heart,  which  is  dead  to  divine  truth,  is  one  to  which  divine  truth  is 
also  dead.  But  the  truth  of  God's  omnipresence  is  such,  that  no  mind,  at 
least  in  our  christian  community,  is  entirely  dead  to  it.  There  may  per- 
haps be  some  among  us,  who  declare  with  the  mere^lips,  that  they  know 
nothing  of  the  Omnipresent  One,  because  they  do  not  see  him  with  their 
corporeal  eyes,  and  cannot  touch  him  with  their  hands.  It  is  with  them  as 
with  those  fools,  who  do  not  believe  in  the  existence  of  the  air  around  them, 
because  they  do  not  see  it  with  their  eyes,  and  cannot  grasp  it  with  their 
hands  ; — but  let  the  strong  wind  awake,  and  the  invisible  Power  is  suddenly 
invested  with  a  form  before  their  eyes  !  let  the  strong  wind  awake,  and  the 
invisible  Being  assumes  a  form  before  the  atheist ;  and  oh  !  it  is  a  form  so 
mighty  and  so  true,  that  everything,  which  in  the  visible  world,  had  pre- 
viously appeared  to  him  as  a  reality,  now  appears  as  a  shadow ;  and  over 
against  every  shadow,  there  will  stand  before  his  soul  nought  but  this 
solitary  truth, — there  is  a  God.  Man  has  power  to  forget  only,  but  not  to 
disbelieve  that  there  is  a  Being  every  where  present.  Thus  the  hundreds 
and  the  thousands,  who  wander  over  the  earth,  and  are  content  to  sport  in 
the  radiance  of  the  material  sun,  have  forgotten  him.  But  as  the  wretched 
one,  whom  to-morrow's  sun-rising  wakes  to  the  gallows,  slumbers  for  a 
while  in  forge tfulness,  but  all  on  a  sudden  rouses  up,  at  the  striking  of 
the  death-clock  ;  so  the  man  who  forgets  God,  suddenly  awakes,  as  the 
voice  all  at  once  strikes  upon  his  ear, — 1  Man  !  I,  the  Holy  One  of  Israel, 
am."  Vol.  1.  pp.  67,  68. 

14  There  is  no  contradiction  between  the  truth  that  God  cannot  be  con- 
tained by  the  whole  heaven  and  earth,  and  the  truth  that  the  sanctuary  is 
the  place  where  he  dwells  in  an  especial  manner.  '  Draw  near  to  me,  and 
I  will  draw  near  to  you.' — And  again,  'In  the  place  where  ye  shall  seek  me, 
I  will  be  found.'  Is  not  now  the  house  of  God  the  place  where  men  first 
approach  him,  where  they  seek  him  ?  Who  knows  but  there  are  some,  even 
in  this  assembly,  who  have  let  the  whole  week  pass  away  without  once 
seeking  their  Lord  in  the  little  chamber.  Here  you  have  come  together 
with  minds  undistracted ;  here  has  it  now  become  still  around  you;  yea 
here,  the  devotion  which  you  see  in  the  assembly  and  which  one  reads  in 
the  features  of  another,  awakens  your  sluggish  spirits.  Should  not  God  now 
come  near  unto  you  ?  Yea,  though  you  do  not  make  a  temple  of  your  little 
chamber,  yet  the  house  of  God  is  the  temple,  where  he  may  in  a  peculiar 
sense  be  approached. 

25 


194 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


"  Further,  the  Bible  speaks  of  our  God,  as  the  God  who  is  in  heaven.  Yet 
oven  on  earth  does  it  hold  true,  that  4  in  the  place  where  ye  seek  me,  I  will 
he  found.'  Why  do  we  pray,  '  Thy  will  be  done,  as  in  heaven  so  likewise 
upon  earth  save  that  here  upon  the  earth  sin  abides  and  misery,  but  in  that 
other  world  those  holy  spirits  dwell,  who  live  forever  in  that  state  of  inno- 
cence and  adoration  of  God,  in  which  they  were  created  ;  save  also  that 
those  higher  realms  are  peculiarly  a  temple  of  God,  in  which  he  dwells  as 
he  does  nowhere  else.  But  at  the  same  time,  throughout  this  description,  it 
may  be  represented  to  man  and  made  comprehensible  even  to  the  child,  that 
he  who,  by  his  almighty  word,  sustains  and  conducts  the  earth  and  every 
thing  therein,  is  himself  elevated  above  its  narrowness  and  defilement, — 
pure  and  unapproachable,  even  as  those  shining  hosts  of  stars  under  whose 
pavement  the  clouds  gather. — A  little  child  standing  under  the  heaven  bright 
with  stars,  once  asked  its  mother, — '  Dear  mother,  are  those  yonder  the  open 
places,  which  the  glory  of  God  shines  through  ?'  In  this  way  is  the  splen- 
dor of  the  Divine  presence  everywhere  diffused, and  yet  at  certain  places  it 
bursts  out  with  especial  brightness."  Vol.  I.  pp.  64 — 66. 

NOTE  V,  Page  164. 

As  might  be  expected  from  one  of  so  poetical  a  fancy,  Tholuck  is  fond  of 
drawing  religious  instruction  from  the  works  of  nature.  There  is  something 
peculiarly  intellectual  in  his  mode  of  describing  these  works.  The  follow- 
ing is  from  his  first  volume. 

"  Who  can  stand  amid  the  scenes  of  nature  on  a  flowery  morning  of 
spring,  or  in  the  starry  night,  without  hearing  the  rush  of  that  stream  of 
life,  which  from  Orion  flows  down  to  the  very  heart  of  the  earth  ?  If  thou 
perceive  no  other  sound  but  that  of  the  dark  rushing  of  an  unknown 
stream,  in  which  thou  thyself  art  but  a  single  small  wave, — tell  me,  where 
is  thy  courage  ? — art  thou  not  seized  with  a  shuddering  ?  Oh  I  have  often 
had,  often  even  in  early  youth  have  I  been  forced  to  have  a  foreboding  of  an 
unlimited  Power  pervading  the  whole  world,  and  I  had  no  name  by  which  1 
could  designate  this  Power,  nor  could  1  obtain  sure  ground  for  a  conviction, 
that  it  was  a  Power  of  holiness  and  of  love  ! — But  to  know,  yea  not  barely 
to  know,  but  to  believe  with  a  full  heart,  and  on  the  authority  of  him  whose 
word  is  itself  a  pledge, — to  believe  that  this  stream  is  one  of  love  and  holi- 
ness, that  it  flows  forth  from  the  heart  of  him,  who  has  given  his  only  be- 
gotten Son  for  the  life  of  the  world, — oh  how  entirely  different  a  hue  does 
this  belief  give  to  our  faith  in  the  universal  presence  of  the  Deity."  p.  67. 

The  first  sermon  in  Tholuck's  fourth  volume  is  on  "  the  wonders  of  the 
grace  of  God  in  the  height  and  in  the  deep  from  Ps.  8:  3,  4.  He  says  in 
his  preface,  that  the  sermon  is  but  an  '  echo  of  one  contained  in  Dr.  Chal- 
mers's excellent  Astronomico-theological  work.'  The  following  extract 
will  show  the  tenderness  and  pious  simplicity  of  Tholuck's  feeling  in  view 
of  the  grand  and  majestic  in  nature. 

"  When  now  we  fit  out  the  eye  with  instruments,  when  science  comes  to 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


195 


our  help  with  her  observations  and  reckonings,  how  vastly  do  the  wonders 
of  heaven  increase.  The  nebulae  are  discovered  to  be  constellations,  and 
each  of  the  constellations  proves  to  be  a  system  of  suns,  and  of  such  nebulae 
the  aided  eye  has  already  numbered  four  thousand.  The  observer  sees  a 
hundred  and  sixteen  thousand  stars  in  the  milky  way,  hastening  across  the 
disc  of  his  telescope  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  One  of  the  sun's  rays,  ar- 
riving at  our  earth  in  eight  minutes,  must  travel  more  than  six  years  through 
lonely  space,  if  it  would  arrive  at  Sirius.  And  in  this  unlimited  multiplicity 
of  movements,  what  an  undeviating  order,  what  a  rigid  law,  that  never  disap- 
points the  calculating  pen  of  a  human  observer  !  Yea  even  those  wander- 
ing stars,  which  seem  to  break  open  their  path  according  to  their  own  choice, 
are  not  they  also  suspended  from  the  arm  of  the  Highest,  and  does  he  not 
lead  them  on,  so  that  even  their  path  may  be  accurately  measured  by  observ- 
ing mortals  ? — Worm  of  th^  dust  as  I  am,  I  am  amazed,  I  tremble,  I  adore  : 
but  if  1  have  no  other  theatre  of  his  greatness  and  of  his  grace  to  look  upon, 
but  that  in  those  unmeasured  distances,  then  does  my  heart  despond  and 
break.  Him  who  hath  spread  out  his  throne  over  immensity  my  narrow 
mind  cannot  comprehend.  If  I  can  behold  no  other  spectacle  for  the  dis- 
play of  his  benevolence  than  that  immeasurable  one,  then  I  may  call  him 
the  Infinite,  6ut  the  name  Father  dies  upon  my  lips.  It  is  always  imagined 
to  be  a  very  natural  thing  for  this  word  Father  to  flow  forth  from  the  heart 
of  man  to  his  lips ;  but  when  we  place  ourselves  in  full  view  of  the  infinity 
of  the  worlds  of  God,  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  name  dies  away 
abashed  upon  our  tongue  ? 

u  Great  are  the  wonders  of  Jehovah  in  the  height  above  us ;  and  if  we  di- 
rect our  eyes  to  this  height  alone,  we  shall  necessarily  despond.  Before 
such  an  immeasurable  expansion,  what  is  this  little  earth?  And  if  with  all 
the  living  beings  who  walk  abroad  upon  it,  it  should  vanish  into  nothing, 
what  notice  would  those  worlds  take  of  its  disappearance  ?  It  would  be  to 
them  as  if  a  small  sparkling  star  had  ceased  its  glistening  in  their  horizon. 
If  this  earth  should  pass  away,  what  would  that  majestic  infinity  of  worlds 
lose  in  splendor  ?  Just  what  the  forest  loses  in  its  magnificence,  when  a 
leaf  shaken  by  the  storm  falls  down. — Beloved,  the  greatness  of  God  op- 
presses our  heart,  when  we  look  only  at  the  wonders  above  ;  and  the  words 
of  astonished  and  humble  thankfulness,  become  also  the  words  of  doubt, 
'  What  is  man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  !'  Therefore  let  us  hasten  away, 
that  our  heart,  in  a  narrow  space,  may  come  to  itself  again  ;  that  we  in  the 
Infinite  may  find  again  our  Father. — The  more  the  telescope  opens  be- 
fore us  a  view  into  the  immensity  above,  so  much  the  more  may  it  take 
away  our  assurance,  that  he  who  is  occupied  in  those  illimitable  spaces,  will 
be  found  in  the  same  activity  here  upon  the  earth.  But  you  must  acknowl- 
edge, that  no  small  part  of  the  brightness  of  his  glory  is  taken  away,  if  he  has 
called  into  existence  so  many  worlds,  that  his  sustaining  and  providing 
power  cannot  keep  equal  pace  with  his  creating ;  if  the  eye  which  guides 
the  four  thousand  nebulae  cannot  discern  the  falling  tear  that  is  shed  on 
this  little  earth.    But  it  is  not  so,  beloved  !    No  sooner  was  the  telescope 


196 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


invented  to  the  fostering  of  human  doubt,  than  another  instrument,  the 
micrsscope,  was  invented  to  the  removal  of  that  doubt;  and  the  infinity  of 
God,  thou  findest  it  again  in  every  flying  straw,  and  in  every  grain  of  mus- 
tard seed.  Is  it  not  the  s;iine  instrument,  which  discovers  to  us,  on  every 
leaf  of  the  forest,  whole  races  and  families  of  a  world  of  joyous  life  ;  which 
opens  to  our  view  upon  the  wing  of  a  fly  a  scene  of  wonders  surpassing 
everything  produced  by  the  industry  and  art  of  man  ?  Yea  beloved,  I  put 
to  you  the  bold  quere, —  Where  is  God  the  greater,  in  the  great  things,  or  in 
the  small,  of  his  creation  ?  in  the  immeasurable  of  the  earth,  or  in  the  infinite 
of  the  heavens? — If  thus,  through  all  visible  nature  there  is  seen  this  ma- 
jestic, manifold  and  inexhaustibly  rich  variety  ;  if  the  flying  straw  and  the 
wing  of  the  smallest  insect  is  a  theatre  of  God's  wonderful  works,  how 
much  greater  care  must  he  have  bestowed  upon  man  ! 

"  Differing  from  all  other  natures,  there  steps  before  us  a  form  erect,  look- 
ing toward  heaven  ;  and  in  that  noble  form  a  spirit,  which  may  mount  on 
the  wing  of  thought  from  earth  to  the  skies,  and  come  back  again  from  the 
skies  to  earth.  Yet  ah  !  what  do  1  see  ? — That  form  which  is  made  to  walk 
through  life  with  heaven  in  its  eye,  it  docs  not  even  look  toward  heaven  ; 
and  that  spirit,  which  in  its  meditation  may  turn  from  earth  to  heaven,  and 
back  again  from  heaven  to  earth,  it  brings  down  no  sure  intelligence  !  1  ask, 
1  Wanderer,  whither  ?  Wanderer,  whence  ?'  But  there  comes  to  my  ear  the 
answer,  '  I  know  not,  but  1  see  the  heaven  full  of  stars  and  the  heart  of  man 
full  of  foreboding.' — Yea,  foreboding,  longing,  this  is  the  only  relic  which 
man  has  saved  from  the  great  apostasy,  in  which  he  lost  the  primitive  noble- 
ness of  his  nature.  And  all  his  wise  men  and  learned  men,  they  can  excite 
this  longing  still  more  keenly,  but  they  can  never  satisfy  it.  And  shall  it 
actually  remain  unsatisfied  ?  No.  He  who  hath  made  the  heart  with  such 
ceaseless  cravings,  he  will  appease  them,  he  will  appease  these  cravings  in 
the  kingdom  of  grace  ;  and  the  wonders  in  the  kingdom  of  his  grace  are 
even  greater  than  those  in  the  kingdom  of  nature."  Vol.  IV.  pp.  3 — 7. 

NOTE  W,Page  107. 

The  paragraph  to  which  this  note  refers,  alludes  to  several  topics,  which 
Tholuck  very  frequently  introduces  into  his  sermons.  He  often  mourns 
over  the  degeneracy  of  the  present  age,  and  yet  indulges  no  morbid  and 
sickly  distrust  in  the  future  prospects  of  the  church  :  see  in  particular  Vol. 
II.  pp.  226—7.  He  often  insists  on  the  importance  of  secret  meditation,  of 
retirement  from  the  world,  and  yet  does  not  encourage  that  merely  senti- 
mental piety,  which  characterizes  so  many  of  his  evangelical  countrymen. 
The  following  are  specimens  of  the  mode,  in  which  he  recommends  the 
habit  of  secluded  thought ;  of  habitual  private  reflection  upon  our  own  sins 
and  God's  paternal  love. 

In  a  sermon  upon  Christian  Truth,  from  Eph.4:25,  he  says, — "The 
first  instance  of  a  want  of  truth  toward  ourselves  and  toward  God,  is  seen  in 
this,  that  we  purposely  forbear  to  examine  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  our 
Maker,  that  we  do  not  seek  the  still  hour.    Of  this  want  of  truth  some  per- 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


197 


haps  are  almost  altogether  unconscious  ;  it  may  be  the  result  of  an  entirely 
thoughtless  levity,  which  leads  a  man  to  live  as  if  he  would  never  die  ;  but 
we,  who  live  within  the  precincts  of  the  Christian  church,  are  in  some 
measure  and  in  a  majority  of  instances  conscious,  that  we  are  in  this  respect 
untrue  to  ourselves.  Do  not  the  most  of  us  well  understand,  that  if  they 
would  often,  in  the  still  hour  and  before  the  eye  of  God,  examine  them- 
selves, they  would  appear  in  an  entirely  different  light  from  what  they  now 
do?  You  know  how  that  brilliant  jewel,  that  sparkling  ornament,  which 
ravished  the  eye  by  lamp-light, — how  it  often  grows  pale,  when  the  morning 
sun  shines  upon  it,  because  it  is  a  mere  imitation.  Oh  my  beloved,  in  the 
same  way  do  many  of  you  bear  about  with  you  the  consciousness,  that  you 
are  moving,  through  life,  under  this  deceitful  shining  of  a  lamp.  But  you 
are  resolved  to  remain  in  this  false  light,  because  you  fear  that  your  jewels, 
if  the  rays  of  the  sun  should  fall  on  them,  would  prove  themselves  to  be  but 
imitation-trinkets.  Poor,  deluded  souls!  You  now  congratulate  yourselves 
that  you  are  able  to  shut  out  from  you  the  light  of  day ;  but  when  the  day 
of  decision  shall  arrive,  and  its  morning  sun  shall  come  forth  in  its  splendor, 
can  you  then  hold  it  back,  and  say,  4  Sun,  shine  on  me  no  more  ?'  This  is 
that  sun,  rising  directly  upon  you,  chasing  away  all  darkness;  this  is  the 
thief  in  the  night,  before  which  you  are  dismayed,  and  by  which  your  peace 
of  conscience  is  destroyed,  because  it  will  one  day  rob  you  of  all  your  fair 
appearances."  Vol.  lit.  pp.  45,  4G. 

In  a  sermon  preached  by  Tholuck  Nov.  10,  1833,  in  commemoration  of 
the  birth-day  of  Luther,  is  a  brief  description  of  Luther's  conversion.  The 
heavenly  voice,  which  once  cried  out  to  the  apostle,  Saul,  Saul,  why 
persecutest  thou  me  ?  is  represented  as  having,  in  a  similar  and  almost 
miraculous  manner,  arrested  Luther  in  his  course  of  sin,  and  as  having 
cried  out,  Martin,  Martin,  why  seekest  thou  me  not.  The  discourse  then 
proceeds  as  follows  :  "  Luther  began  at  this  time  to  seek  God.  It  was  the 
time  when  every  one,  who  would  seek  and  serve  the  Lord,  must  resort  to 
the  stillness  of  the  cloister.  1  Flee  far  from  me,  ye  joys  of  the  world,'  so 
the  new  convert  cried  from  his  very  soul. '  where  the  melodies  of  the  world  are 
heard,  there  the  instrument  of  God  shall  make  music  for  me  !'  So  he  with- 
draws himself  into  the  cloistered  cell;  he  seeks  the  approval  of  Jehovah;  in 
daily,  severe  self-denial  he  seeks  it.  With  every  new  step  that  he  takes  in 
the  divine  life,  he  perceives  the  image  of  perfect  holiness  rising  higher  and 
higher  above  bim.  On  all  sides  it  is  cried  out  to  him,  'be  holy,  heart,  be 
holy  ;'  but  lo,  the  goadings  of  passion  and  of  evil  desire  do  not  cease.  Over- 
powered with  severe  sickness,  he  sinks  into  a  state  of  deep  disquiet  of  soul. 
When  even  his  beloved  music  ceases  to  console  him,  then  does  he  hear  a 
more  glorious  music.  An  old  cloister- brother  repeats  to  him,  from  the 
Apostle's  creed,  which  you  hear  every  sunday  before  the  altar,  the  words, 
'  1  believe  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins.'  Innumerable  times  had  he,  as  have  you 
also,  listened  to  these  words;  but,  brethren,  the  declaration  of  the  forgive- 
ness of  sins  is  one  which  will  be  first  understood,  when  the  need  of  the  soul 
and  the  thirst  after  divine  grace  have  opened  the  intellect.    With  many 


198 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


such  words  does  the  sacred  Scripture  come  to  men  as  to  the  deaf  and  dumb  : 
they  learn  to  utter  the  words,  but  the  meaning  of  what  they  utter  they 
understand  not.  If  the  deaf  mute  could  acquire  the  power  of  hearing,  he 
would  be  obliged  to  learn  anew  all  that  he  has  artificially  repeated.  The 
wants  of  the  soul,  the  thirst  after  divine  grace  must  first  open  the  under- 
standing for  every  divine  truth." 

And  now  "  brother,  a  voice  from  God  rings  in  thine  ears,  my  child,  why 
hast  thou  not  sought  me  ?  Yea  from  infancy  up, — first,  when  thou  wast  sitting 
in  thy  mother's  embrace,  while  she  told  thee  the  story  of  the  dear  Redeemer  ; 
and  then  in  thy  boyhood,  when  in  starry  nights  thou  gazedst  on  the  grandeur 
of  thy  heavenly  Father's  mansions,  and  thine  eyes  shed  drops  of  thankful- 
ness, that  among  all  his  millions  of  worlds  he  forgot  not  thee,  poor  child ; 
and  then  in  thy  youth,  when  sin  conflicted  sorely  with  thee,  and  thou 
learnedst  the  truth  '  he  that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart  is  a  fool;' — every 
where  and  all  the  way  has  thy  Father's  voice  cried  out  to  thee,  i  wherefore 
seekest  thou  me  not,  my  straying  child,  for  1  am  still  thy  Father' — Art  thou 
then  awakened,  brother,  by  this  voice  ;  then  confer  not  with  flesh  and  blood  ; 
bid  farewell  to  the  world  What!  you  ask,  shall  we  fly  from  the  relations 
in  which  God  has  placed  us,  shall  we  seek  the  cloistered  stillness,  and  the 
cloistered  garments  ?  No,  my  friends.  We  are  indebted  to  our  Luther,  that 
we  have  learned  another  mode  of  separation  from  the  world,  than  that  by 
monkish  garments  ;  and  another  mode  of  living  in  the  cloister,  than  that  of 
living  between  four  narrow  walls.  He  it  was,  who  taught  the  Christian 
what  is  that  evangelical  separation  from  the  world,  that  evangelical  mode  of 
living  in  the  cloister,  which  is  thus  described  by  Paul,  <  they  have  as  though 
they  have  not.  they  enjoy  as  though  they  enjoyed  not."    Vol.  I.  pp.  6,  7,  8. 


NOTE  X,  Page  169. 

The  allusion  to  Francke  in  this  passage  will  perhaps  appear  forced  and 
inapposite,  unless  we  consider  that  the  name  of  this  remarkable  man  is  as- 
sociated, in  a  peculiar  degree,  with  faith  in  God,  with  earnestness  in  prayer, 
and  with  very  surprising  divine  interpositions  in  his  behalf;  unless  we  also 
consider  that  he  was  a  resident,  for  more  than  forty  years,  at  the  place  where 
this  sermon  was  delivered,  that  he  was  one  of  the  first  theological  professors 
in  the  University,  that  he  was  the  original  founder  of  the  orphan-house,  for 
which  Halle  has  been  so  long  distinguished,  and  that  his  name  is  remember- 
ed throughout  Germany  with  the  profoundest  veneration.  His  orphan 
house,  to  which  Tholuck  more  particularly  alludes,  was  in  an  emphatic 
sense  built  by  prayer  ;  was  undertaken  without  any  resources  except  the 
prospective  and  unpledged  contributions  of  the  benevolent;  and  often  when 
the  devoted  founder  had  not  a  farthing  to  pay  his  workmen,  he  could  do 
nothing  but  fall  on  his  knees,  and  entreat  the  overruling  Providence  for  the 
needed  supplies.  It  was  singular,  that  individuals,  known  and  unknown, 
frequently  sent  him,  by  the  post,  at  these  fearful  emergencies,  the  very 
donations  which  he  had  just  implored  from  Heaven. 


SKETCH  OF  THE  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER 


PROF.  THOLUCK. 


SKETCH  OF 


THOLUCK'S  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER. 


The  following  sketch  was  originally  intended  for  insertion  among 
the  notes  to  the  preceding  sermons  of  Tholuck,  and  therefore  its 
analysis  of  his  character  was  designed  more  particularly  to  exhibit 
his  qualifications  as  a  preacher.  It  is  inserted  as  a  separate  article, 
because  its  length  would  have  increased  the  notes  to  a  disproportion- 
ate bulk.  Many  of  the  statements  which  it  gives  are  translated  from 
the  Supplement  to  the  Conversations-Lexicon  der  neuesten  Zeit  und 
Literatur,  Vol.  IV.  pp.  625—628.  Leipsic,  1834.  Though  the 
article  on  Tholuck  in  that  Lexicon  was  written  by  his  opposers, 
and  was  designed  to  produce  an  unfavorable  impression  concerning 
him,  it  may  still  be  relied  on  as  accurate  in  its  general  statement  of 
facts,  many  of  them  having  been  furnished  for  the  Lexicon  by 
Tholuck  himself.  Other  facts,  detailed  in  the  ensuing  sketch,  were 
gleaned  from  the  letters  and  journals  of  American  divines,  who  have 
enjoyed  the  acquaintance  of  Prof.  Tholuck. 

Frederic  Augustus  Gottreu  Tholuck  was  born  at  Breslau,  the 
capital  of  Silesia,  on  the  thirtieth  of  March,  1799.  It  was  early  in- 
tended that  he  should  follow  the  occupation  of  his  father,  which  was 
that  of  a  goldsmith.  He  accordingly  left  school  in  his  twelfth  year, 
and  entered  upon  his  apprenticeship.  He  had  such  an  aversion  to 
his  employment,  however,  that  he  soon  returned  to  the  Gymnasium, 
and  in  1816  entered  the  University  at  Breslau.  He  was  now  seven- 
teen years  of  age,  and  as  yet  had  acquired  no  predilection  for  any 
particular  course  of  study.  But  in  a  short  time  he  formed  a  strong 
attachment  to  oriental  literature,  and  made  application  to  Kosegarten, 
Professor  at  Griefswalde,  a  pupil  of  De  Sacy,  and  one  of  the  first 
26 


202  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 

oriental  scholars  in  Germany,  for  means  to  prosecute  his  studies  in 
this  department.  Before  he  had  been  three  months  at  the  University, 
he  resolved  to  solicit  the  patronage  of  the  celebrated  orientalist,  the 
prelate  Von  Dietz,  formerly  the  Prussian  ambassador  at  Constanti- 
nople. Having  received  recommendations  from  the  philologist 
Schneider,  and  from  other  literary  men  at  Breslau,  he  set  out  for 
Berlin,  and  found  in  Dielz  a  much  more  cordial  welcome  than  he 
had  expected.  The  prelate  adopted  him  as  his  foster-son,  and 
promised  to  afford  him  the  means  of  travelling  in  the  East  at  some 
future  day.  After  the  lapse  of  three  months,  however,  this  bene- 
factor of  Tholuck  deceased,  but  Tholuck  was  not  deprived  of  the 
means  of  pursuing  his  favorite  study.  He  had  become  known  as  a 
promising  orientalist  to  many  who  cheerfully  lent  him  their  aid ; 
and  through  the  instrumentality  of  the  minister  Von  Altenstein,  he 
was  endowed  with  a  considerable  stipend,  which  enabled  him  to 
continue  his  oriental  studies.  He  availed  himself  chiefly  of  the 
instructions  of  Ideler  and  Wilken. 

In  a  paragraph  which  Tholuck  prefixed  to  the  English  translation 
of  his  Comm.  on  the  Rom.,  he  says,  "  Even  in  early  boyhood  infi- 
delity had  forced  its  way  into  my  heart,  and  at  the  age  of  twelve  I 
was  wont  to  scoff  at  Christianity  and  its  truths.  Hard  has  been  the 
struggle  which  I  have  come  through,  before  attaining  to  assurance 
of  that  faith,  in  which  I  am  now  blessed.  I  prove,  however,  in  my- 
self, and  acknowledge  it  with  praise  to  the  Almighty,  that  the  longer 
I  live,  the  more  does  serious  study,  combined  with  the  experiences 
of  life,  help  me  to  recognize  in  the  christian  doctrine  an  inex- 
haustible fountain  of  true  knowledge,  and  serve  to  strengthen  the 
conviction,  that  all  the  wisdom  of  this  world  is  but  folly  when  com- 
pared with  the  glorious  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ."  Edin.  Bib.  Cab., 
No.  V.  p.  14,  Pref.  During  the  whole  period  of  his  residence  at  the 
Gymnasium  he  was  decided  in  his  infidelity,  and  for  the  theme  of 
the  oration  which  he  delivered  on  leaving  that  institution,  he  chose, 
The  superiority  of  Mohammedanism  to  Christianity.  It  was  not 
until  the  last  year  of  his  university  life,  that  his  theological  views 
became  more  consistent  and  rational.  An  intimate  acquaintance  with 
Professor  Neander  of  Berlin  was  highly  serviceable  to  his  religious 
character.  He  was  also  peculiarly  indebted  to  the  faithful  religious 
counsels  of  Baron  Von  Cottewitz,  a  very  pious  Lutheran,  still  living 
at  an  advanced  age  in  Berlin.  Tholuck  himself  frequently  refers  to 
this  man  as  his  spiritual  father. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OP  THOLUCK. 


203 


Immediately  after  completing  his  three  years'  course  at  the  Uni- 
versity, Tholuck  became  one  of  the  private  teachers  at  Berlin.  In 
1819  De  Wette,  having  written  a  letter  of  condolence  to  the  mother 
of  Sands,  the  young  theological  student  who  murdered  Kotzebue, 
(see  Cons.  Lex.  Art.  Sands),  was  peremptorily  dismissed  from  his 
Professorship  at  Berlin  ;  and  Tholuck,  having  early  become  a 
favorite  with  the  Prussian  Government,  was  appointed  his  successor. 
He  had  however  only  the  title  of  Professor  Extraordinarius.  At  the 
time  of  his  promotion  to  this  elevated  chair,  he  was  only  twenty 
years  of  age.  Succeeding  at  so  early  a  period  of  life,  so  distinguished 
a  Professor  as  De  Wette,  he  was  obliged  to  withdraw  his  attention 
in  some  degree  from  his  oriental  studies,  and  direct  them  more  par- 
ticularly to  theological.  He  applied  himself  with  great  zeal  and 
assiduity  to  the  defence  of  evangelical  religion,  and  his  efforts  secured 
the  warm  approbation  of  the  King  and  Ministry  of  Prussia,  and  soon 
elevated  him  to  the  station  of  a  leader  in  the  orthodox  party.  The 
honors  which  he  received  immediately  after  the  change  in  his  re- 
ligious views  and  character,  have  induced  his  enemies  to  ascribe 
this  change  to  his  desire  of  procuring  the  patronage  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  becoming  the  head  of  what  they  are  pleased  to  call  the 
fanatics  and  pietists. 

The  mental  precocity  of  Tholuck  was  nearly  equal  to  that  of 
Gesenius,  who  published  his  invaluable  Hebrew  Lexicon  at  the  age 
of  twenty  three,  his  larger  Hebrew  Grammar  at  twenty  seven,  and 
his  celebrated  Commentary  on  Isaiah  at  thirty-one.  Tholuck  was 
but  twenty-two  years  old,  when  he  published  his  Hints  for  the  Study 
of  the  Old  Testament  (8vo.  1821),  and  also  his  Ssufismus,  or  Pan- 
theistic Theology  of  the  Persians  (8vo.  1821),  a  work  which,  to- 
gether with  his  other  productions  in  oriental  literature,  has  been 
highly  extolled  even  by  his  opposers  ;  see  Cons.  Lex.  Art.  Thol.,  and 
All.  Literatur-Zeit.,  1825.  He  was  but  twenty-three  years  of  age,  when 
he  published  his  Treatise  on  the  Nature  and  Moral  Influence  of 
Heathenism ;  an  article  which  Gesenius  pronounced  the  ablest 
which  he  had  ever  seen  on  the  subject.  This  article  was  translated 
by  Prof.  Emerson  of  Andover,  and  published  in  the  Bib.  Repository, 
Vol.  II.  pp.  80—124,  246—290,  441—499.  He  was  but  twenty-five 
years  of  age,  when  he  published  his  Comm.  on  the  Romans  ;  which 
has  passed  through  three  editions  in  Germany,  and  has  been 
translated  into  English,  in  the  Edin.  Bib.  Cabinet.     De  Wette, 


204 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


though  far  from  evangelical  in  his  sentiments,  has  pronounced  this 
Commentary  superior  to  any  that  had  preceded  it  on  the  same 
Epistle.  Tholuck  was  but  twenty-six  years  of  age,  when  he  pub- 
lished the  following  works  :  a  separate  Translation  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Romans,  which  has  been  carried  through  two  editions  in  Ger- 
many (8vo.  1825  and  1831) ;  an  Anthology  of  the  Oriental  Mystic 
Poems,  with  an  Introduction  on  the  Mystics  generally  and  the  Eas- 
tern in  particular,  (8vo.  1825) ;  and'  an  article  on  Sin  and  the  Re- 
deemer, or  the  conversion  of  a  Skeptic,  which  has  passed  through 
four  editions  in  Germany,  and  part  of  which  was  translated  by  Mr. 
Nast  for  the  Bib.  Repos.,  Vol.  VIII.  pp.  308—341.  In  the  succeed- 
ing  year,  1826,  he  published  a  work  on  the  Speculations  of  the 
later  Orientalists  respecting  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity. 

In  the  year  1825,  Tholuck  took  a  journey  to  England  and  Hol- 
land. He  visited  England  again  in  1835.  His  first  journey  was  taken 
for  the  purpose  of  literary  improvement,  and  especially  of  extending 
his  acquaintance  with  the  Oriental  writings.  His  expenses  were 
defrayed  by  the  Prussian  Government,  with  whom  he  still  continues 
to  be  a  favorite.  While  in  England  he  expressed,  as  every  sincere 
and  honest  Christian  would  be  inclined  to  do,  his  grief  at  the  loose- 
ness of  German  theology.  Some  of  his  remarks,  particularly  those 
made  in  speeches  before  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  were 
reported  in  Germany,  were  distorted  and  exaggerated  by  the  Ration- 
alists, and  thus  excited  great,  but  unmerited  indignation  against  him. 
His  opposers  have  not  yet  forgotten  nor  forgiven  these  remarks. 

While  he  was  on  his  foreign  tour,  he  was  attacked  with  a  severe 
illness,  and  was  obliged  to  return,  earlier  than  he  had  intended,  to  his 
native  land.  Dr.  Knapp,  Professor  Ordinarius  of  Theology  at  Halle, 
having  died  in  1825,  Tholuck  was  appointed  in  1826,  when  but 
twenty-seven  years  of  age,  the  successor  of  that  distinguished  theo- 
logian. His  appointment  was  violently  opposed  by  the  Rationalists 
at  Halle,  who  constitute  decidedly  the  most  numerous  as  well  as  the 
strongest  party  at  that  seat  of  learning.  They  denounced  him  as  a 
fanatic,  accused  him  afresh  of  having  pre-condemned  them  in  a 
foreign  land,  and  they  endeavored  by  various  means,  to  prevent 
his  acceptance  of  the  appointment.  He  did  accept,  however,  and 
mitigated  for  a  time  their  hostility  by  his  amiable  spirit  and  deport- 
ment, and  his  exhibition  of  extensive  and  various  learning. 

In  1827,  the  year  after  his  appointment  to  the  theological  chair 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


205 


of  Dr.  Knapp,  the  chair  which  he  still  retains,  he  published  his 
Commentary  on  the  Gospel  of  John,  which  has  passed  through  five 
editions  in  Germany,  and  been  translated  into  our  own  language. 
Having  suffered  for  a  long  time  and  very  severely  from  disease,  he 
was  appointed  in  the  spring  of  1828,  Chaplain  of  the  Prussian 
Embassy  at  Rome.  He  accepted  the  appointment,  and  spent  a 
year  in  Italy  with  decided  benefit  to  his  health.  The  intellectual 
pleasure  as  well  as  profit,  which  he  must  have  received  in  the  library 
of  the  Vatican,  will  be  appreciated  by  all  who  consider  the  richness 
of  that  library  in  foreign  manuscripts,  and  Tholuck's  familiarity  with 
foreign  languages. 

While  a  private  teacher  and  a  professor  at  Berlin,  Tholuck  had 
the  title  of  Licentiate  of  Theology.  When  he  removed  to  Halle, 
the  University  of  Berlin  conferred  on  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Theology.  When  he  accepted  his  chaplaincy,  he  applied  for 
ordination  at  Merseburg,  and  received  it  without  a  previous  ex- 
amination. This  examination  is  customarily  omitted  at  the  ordina- 
tion of  Doctors  in  Theology.  In  1830,  he  was  appointed  Court- 
Preacher  at  Dresden.  This  invitation  he  declined,  and  immediately 
afterwards  received  from  the  Government  the  honorary  title  of 
Consistorialrath,  Counsellor  or  Assessor  of  the  Consistory.  This  is 
now  his  proper  style  of  address.  It  is  somewhat  higher  than  the 
doctorate  of  divinity  among  us.  Only  one  ecclesiastical  honor,  that 
of  Oberconsistorialrath,  is  higher  than  this  in  Germany.  Bibl.  Rep. 
Vol.  I.  pp.  413,  414. 

In  1829  he  published  a  volume  of  sermons,  which  were  preached 
at  Berlin,  Rome,  London  and  Halle.  This  is,  strictly  speaking,  his 
first  volume  of  sermons,  though  that  published  in  1834,  is  marked 
the  first,  from  its  relation  to  the  subsequent  series.  In  1830,  soon 
after  his  return  from  Italy,  he  became  involved  in  a  very  serious 
altercation  with  the  Rationalists  at  Halle,  a  slight  allusion  to  which 
is  found  in  Bib.  Rep.,  Vol.  I.  p.  29.  The  circumstances  of  the  case 
are  the  following.  Ludwig  Von  Gerlack,  then  associate  Judge  at 
Frankfort  on  the  Oder,  a,  contributor  to  Hengstenberg's  Evangelical 
Church  Journal,  exposed  in  that  periodical  the  impious  manner  in 
which  Gesenius  and  Wegscheider,  Professors  at  Halle,  ridiculed 
certain  portions  of  Scripture,  and  slandered  the  sacred  penmen.  He 
sustained  his  charges  by  quotations  from  notes  taken  by  the  students 
of  the  University.     It  was  thought  to  be  an  outrage  upon  the  rights 


206 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


of  the  professors,  and  upon  the  character  of  the  students,  thus  to 
publish  abstracts  of  lectures,  which  were  not  intended  for  the  public 
eye,  and  which  could  not  be  fairly  exhibited  in  such  a  shape ;  and 
above  all  to  publish  them  for  the  purpose  "  of  accusing  these  es- 
teemed and  distinguished  men  of  heterodoxy,"  and  of  exciting 
against  them  the  hostile  feeling  of  the  Government.  The  professors 
resented,  as  an  infringement  of  their  privileges,  the  attempt  to  make 
them  responsible  to  the  public  and  obnoxious  to  the  ministry,  for  the 
remarks  which  they  might  make  at  a  private  lecture ;  and  the 
students  not  only  sympathized  with  the  professors,  but  felt  that  an 
imputation  was  cast  upon  their  own  honor. 

Tholuck  had  not  approved  of  Von  Gerlack's  article,  had  even  at- 
tempted to  dissaude  him  from  the  publication  of  it,  yet  he  was  sus- 
pected of  having  instigated  the  whole  exposure.  So  great  was  the 
consequent  excitement  against  him  that  his  life  was  endangered,  and 
he  was  obliged  to  have  a  military  guard  when  he  visited  the  Minis- 
try. His  opposers  now  say,  with  the  coolness  of  true  Rationalists, 
that  "  as  he  was  known  to  be  one  of  the  leaders  of  that  fanatical 
party,  who  support  the  Church  Journal,  and  as  he  was  then  resident 
at  Halle,  it  was  natural  that  he  should  be  suspected  of  an  agency  in 
this  attack  upon  his  colleagues,  and  that  he  should  be  thereby  ex- 
posed to  the  first  out-breaking  of  the  merited  indignation,  which  was 
felt  by  the  youth,  then  pursuing  their  studies  at  Halle  and  feeling 
themselves  calumniated  in  the  offensive  article.  On  a  closer  ex- 
amination, however,  it  appeared  that  Tholuck  was  free  from  par- 
ticipating in  that  accusation  of  heterodoxy,  and  that  he  had  not 
recommended  the  interposition  of  the  Government  against  the 
Rationalist  teachers.  But  as  he  agreed,  in  substance,  with  the 
dogmatic  principles  of  the  Evangelical  party,  the  indignation  and 
the  literary  attacks  of  the  freethinking  theologians  were  aimed 
against  him  in  an  especial  manner.  Among  these  attacks,  by  far 
the  most  severe  was  doubtless  that  which  came  from  Charles 
Frederick  Augustus  Fritzsche,  of  Rostock  ;  for  while  all  others  con- 
tended against  Tholuck's  dogmatic  principles,  this  writer  accused 
him  of  the  rudest  ignorance  concerning  the  laws  of  language  and 
of  interpretation."  "  Fritzsche  came  forward  with  a  work  called  '  A 
Review  of  the  merits  of  Mr.  Tholuck  as  an  Interpreter,'  (Halle  1831). 
In  this  work  he  showed,  by  a  long  catalogue  of  examples  from 
Tholuck's  exegetical  writings,  that  he  committed  every  moment 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


207 


mistakes,  (to  irritate  Tholuckhe  called  them  blunders),  of  the  gravest 
character  against  the  canons  of  language  and  of  interpretation  ;  that 
he  did  not  know  how  to  place  the  accent  aright,  but  offended  in  this 
respect  against  the  forms  of  speech  and  against  syntax ;  that  he 
coined  words  in  a  mode  which  usage  did  not  justify  ;  that  he  gave 
definitions,  which  are  not  and  cannot  be  sanctioned  ;  that  he  fell 
into  the  most  incredible  errors  in  apprehending  the  meaning  of  the 
original,  etc."  "  Against  these  criticisms,  expressed  in  so  cutting  a 
manner,  Tholuck  endeavoured  to  defend  himself  in  his  1  Contribu- 
tions to  the  Interpretation  of  the  New  Testament,  together  with  a  Re- 
view of  the  Criticism  upon  my  Comm.  on  the  Rom.,  by  Dr.  Fritzsche,' 
(Halle,  1832).  He  was  far,  however,  from  being  successful  in  ex- 
culpating himself  from  all  the  errors  charged  against  him ;  on  the 
contrary  he  emboldened  Fritzshce  to  publish  a  new  work,  Prelimin- 
aries, etc.,"  (Halle  1832),  in  which  the  same  errors  were  forcibly 
particularized,  and  new  errors  added.  Against  this  work  Tholuck 
endeavored  to  defend  himself  again,  in  his  i  One  sober  word  more,' 
etc.,  (Halle  1832)  ;  but  he  could  not  entirely  wash  away  the  stain, 
which  was  fastened  upon  him."  "  This  contest  between  Fritzsche 
and  Tholuck  was  on  subjects,  purely  philological.  It  is,  however, 
to  be  regarded  as  an  important  part  of  the  contest  between  Rational- 
ism and  Super-naturalism  ;  inasmuch  as  the  combatants  belonged  to 
the  two  opposing  parties,  and  the  spirit  of  party  manifestly  con- 
tributed to  make  the  contest  more  bitter  and  violent,  than  it  could 
have  been  made  by  mere  philological  differences.  It  derived  inter- 
est, also,  from  its  operation  upon  the  general  controversy  between 
the  two  parties,  for  it  had  a  close  connexion  with  the  literary  charac- 
ter of  one  of  the  chief  men  among  the  super-naturalists,  one  upon 
whom  the  influence  of  those  men  in  the  province  of  letters  essen- 
tially depended.  Previously  to  this,  Tholuck  had  been  universally 
acknowledged  to  be  a  man  of  profound  learning,  particularly  in  the 
department  of  oriental  literature  ;  his  exegetical  labors  had,  there- 
fore, no  small  influence  in  favor  of  his  theological  opinions  ;  and  he 
was  the  pride  and  the  bulwark  of  his  party."  "  Though  it  may  be 
regarded  by  the  rationalists  as  a  fortunate  event,  that  their  most 
influential  opponent  was  thus  divested  of  his  false  show  of  learning, 
yet  still  this  kind  of  literary  warfare,  this  fault-finding  (splitterrich- 
terliche)  dispute  on  words,  these  despicable  reproaches  for  blunders 
in  language,  must  be  regarded  as  a  proof  of  a  base  spirit  in  our 


208 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


learned  community."  Cons.  Lex.  Arts.  Tholuck,  and  Rationalism 
and  Super-naturalism;  Vol.  IV.  pp.  626, 7,  and  Vol.  III.  pp.  693,  4. 

That  the  animadversions  of  Fritzsche,  and  more  recently  of  Strauss, 
upon  Tholuck's  literary  character  were  not  entirely  unjust,  is  ad- 
mitted by  many  of  Tholuck's  friends  ;  and  the  influence  of  them  is 
said  to  have  been  decidedly  beneficial  both  to  his  habits  of  investiga- 
tion, and  his  style  of  writing.  But  that  these  attacks  were  so  ruin- 
ous to  his  reputation,  as  the  preceding  narrative  of  the  Rationalists 
would  indicate,  is  not  pretended  now  even  by  his  enemies.  They 
are  obliged  to  concede,  that  the  censures  heaped  upon  him  were  too 
unqualified  and  indiscriminate,  that  his  inaccuracies  were  by  no 
means  so  gross  nor  his  faults  of  style  so  censurable  as  was  pre- 
tended :  see  even  the  Cons.  Lex.  Vol.  IV.  p.  628.  The  replies  of 
Tholuck,  which  are  mentioned  so  disparagingly  above,  are  said  by 
many  to  be  among  his  happiest  efforts.  They  convict  his  reviewer 
of  greater  inaccuracies  than  were  charged  upon  himself.  His  de- 
portment, through  the  whole  conflict,  was  truly  christian  and  noble. 
He  considered  himself  as  attacked  not  by  Fritzsche  alone,  but  by  the 
great  body  of  the  Rationalists.  They  instigated  Fritzsche  to  his 
merciless  criticism  ;  men,  of  whom  we  should  little  suspect  such 
dishonorable  conduct,  furnished  him  with  materials  for  his  censure  ; 
and  his  condemnatory  works  may  be  considered  the  joint  effort  of 
those  most  interested  in  Tholuck's  downfall ;  and  yet  the  effort  was, 
as  the  candid  now  confess,  unsuccessful.  It  may  also  be  remarked 
that  there  were  feelings  of  personal  ill-will,  which  instigated  Fritzsche 
to  his  encounter  with  Tholuck.  He  is  of  about  the  same  age  with 
his  antagonist,  like  him  is  the  author  of  several  Commentaries  on 
the  sacred  books,  but  instead  of  being,  as  his  father  was  before  him, 
in  a  Theological  Professorship  at  Halle,  he  is  Professor  of  Theology 
at  Rostock,  the  smallest  of  the  German  Universities.  He  formerly 
held  the  same  Professorship  at  Leipsic.  The  father,  Christian 
Frederic  Fritzsche,  D.  D.,  was  a  decided  rationalist,  and  his  spirit 
reappears  in  his  son. 

In  1830,  Tholuck  established  a  periodical  paper,  called  the 
Literary  Advertiser,  for  Christian  Theology  and  General  Intelligence. 
It  is  a  single  sheet,  quarto,  and  was  issued  at  the  rate  of  eighty  num- 
bers a  year.  The  greater  part  of  its  articles  are  said  to  be  from  his 
own  pen.  He  is  about  to  publish  a  collection  of  essays  from  this  pa- 
per, in  a  separate  volume  ;  to  which  he  designs  to  append  some  arti- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


209 


cles  never  before  given  to  the  public.  From  this  periodical  there 
have  been  translated  into  English,  an  article  on  the  present  state  of 
Theological  Literature  and  Education  in  Italy,  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  L 
pp.  177 — 186,  and  II.  pp.  394 — 405 ;  an  article  on  the  Lexicogra- 
phy of  the  New  Testament,  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  I.  pp.  552 — 568 ;  an 
article  on  the  Hypothesis  of  the  Egyptian  or  Indian  Origin  of  the 
name  Jehovah,  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  IV.  pp.  89 — 108 ;  and  an  article 
on  the  merits  of  Calvin  as  an  Interpreter,  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  II.  pp. 
541 — 568.  The  first  two  articles  were  translated  by  Prof.  Robinson 
of  New  York,  the  last  one  by  Prof.  Woods  of  Bangor,  and  all  of 
them  were  written  by  Prof.  Tholuck.  The  establishment  of  the 
Literary  Advertiser  originated  from  no  want  of  friendship  for 
Hengstenberg ;  for  Tholuck  still  contributes  to  the  pages  of  the 
Church  Journal,  and  Hengstenberg  contributes  to  the  Advertiser. 
The  two  editors  are  personal  friends,  though  Tholuck  is  not  so  vio- 
lent and  caustic  as  Hengstenberg,  but  occupies  a  middle  ground 
between  him  on  the  one  side,  and  Neander  on  the  other,  being  more 
tolerant  than  the  former,  less  accommodating  than  the  latter.  His 
opposers,  speaking  of  his  relation  to  the  two  periodicals,  say,  not  in 
all  respects  with  perfect  correctness,  that  "  Tholuck  in  his  dogmatical 
system  is  more  liberal  and  stands  more  upon  speculative  ground, 
than  that  rigorous  portion  of  the  evangelical  party  which  is  repre- 
sented in  Hengstenberg.  He  does  not  sanction  the  dogmatic  ex- 
clusiveness  of  the  last  named  writer,  and  that  fanatical  system  of 
persecution  and  impeachment  for  heterodoxy,  which  is  founded  on 
such  exclusiveness.  Since  the  catastrophe  at  Halle  he  seems  to 
have  freed  himself  from  his  earlier  connection  with  the  Church 
Journal,  and  has  established  a  theological  paper  of  his  own  ;  which 
preserves  more  of  a  scientific  character  than  Hengstenberg's,  and 
during  the  most  violent  party-contests,  has  preserved  a  commendable 
moderation.,,    Con.  Lex.  Vol.  IV.  p.  627. 

In  1833,  Tholuck  edited  Calvin's  Commentary  on  the  New  Testa- 
ment, 6  Vols.  8vo.  In  the  same  year  he  also  published  his  Com- 
mentary on  Christ's  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  Part  of  this  Commen- 
tary, that  on  the  5th  of  Matt.,  was  translated  into  English  for  the 
Edinburgh  Bib.  Cabinet,  No.  VI.  and  part  also,  that  on  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  was  translated  by  Prof.  Torrey  of  Burlington  for  the  Bib. 
Repos.  Vol.  V.  pp.  190—238,  and  Vol.  VI.  pp.  187—207.  The 
following  extract  from  a  letter  of  Tholuck  to  Rev.  R.  Menzies,  of 
27 


210 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


Scotland,  will  present  the  view,  which  our  author  entertains  of  this 
Commentary,  in  comparison  with  his  Comm.  on  the  Romans.  "  I  wish 
especially  to  remark,  that  the  work  (on  the  Rom.)  is  to  be  regarded  as 
the  production  of  an  earlier  period  of  my  life,  and  as  having  been 
intended  for  a  particular  purpose.  1  composed  it  in  my  twenty-fifth 
year,  with  the  special  view  of  commending  to  the  hearts  of  my 
countrymen  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith,  which  at  the  time  I 
perceived  to  be  greatly  misunderstood.  Other  points  are  hence 
labored  with  less  care  ;  and  at  this  time  ( 1833)  I  believe  that  on  the 
9th  chapter  I  should  be  able  to  give  some  more  profound  views. 
Accordingly,  it  by  no  means  presents  what  1  now  consider  as  the 
beau  ideal  of  a  theological  commentary.  I  am  occupied  at  present 
with  the  publication  of  an  extensive  commentary  upon  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  and  it  is  to  this  I  must  refer,  if  your  countrymen 
should  wish  a  more  mature  work  from  my  pen.  It  contains  many 
expositions  of  the  doctrines,  and  might  serve  to  render  the  dogmatical 
part  of  our  theology  more  accessible  to  English  divines.  At  the 
same  time  I  am  persuaded,  that  none  of  them  would  there  meet  with 
anything  at  all  contrary  to  the  pure  orthodoxy  of  your  church." 
Ed.  Bib.  Cab.  Preface  to  the  Comm.  on  Rom.  pp.  13,  14. 

In  1835,  Tholuck  published  a  Comment  on  the  Influence  of  the 
Greek  Philosophy  upon  the  Theology  of  the  Mohammedans  and  the 
Jews  ;  in  1836,  his  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews ;  in 
1837,  his  Treatise  on  the  Credibility  of  the  Evangelical  His- 
tory, with  his  reply  to  Dr.  D.  Strauss's  Leben  Jesu ;  and  in  the  four 
years  1834,  5,  7,  and  8,  he  published  four  Volumes  of  sermons, 
each  containing  about  200  pages,  12mo.  They  have  recently  been 
published  in  a  new  edition  of  2  Vols.  pp.  366  and  429.  His 
contributions  to  the  German  periodicals  have  been  numerous  and 
important.  Those  published  in  the  Studien  und  Kritiken  are, 
one  on  the  Want  of  Agreement  among  the  Interpreters  of  the  New 
Testament  Vol.  V.  No.  2,  a  translation  of  which  by  Prof.  Rob- 
inson is  in  Bib.  Repos.,  Vol.  III.  pp.  684 — 707  ;  one  on  the  Sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  Vol.  IX.  No.  2,  and  one  on  the  Study  of 
Paul's  Epistles,  Vol.  VIII.  No.  2.  He  is  at  this  time  engaged  in  a 
labored  revision  of  his  Comm.  on  the  Romans ;  and  when  we  con- 
sider the  great  advantages  which  he  enjoys  for  improving  his  pre- 
ceding editions,  we  may  reasonably  expect  that  this  Commentary 
will  surpass  in  interest  either  of  his  others. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


211 


Notwithstanding  the  variety  of  Prof.  Tholuck's  publications, 
his  labors  have  not  been  confined  to  the  study.  When  at 
Berlin,  he  established  at  his  own  house  a  religious  conference, 
chiefly  for  the  benefit  of  the  pious  students  of  the  University.  It 
was  held  every  week,  and  its  exercises  were  prayer,  singing,  the 
reading  of  the  Scriptures  or  of  a  sermon,  familiar  conversation  on 
doctrinal  or  practical  theology,  and  sometimes  a  direct  religious  ad- 
dress. This  conference  is  still  continued  every  Saturday  evening. 
It  is  the  more  worthy  of  notice,  because  meetings  of  this  character 
are  generally  subjects  of  ridicule  among  the  Germans  ;  and  besides 
are  often  regarded  with  suspicion,  have  sometimes  indeed  been  ex- 
pressly prohibited  by  the  Government.  Since  Tholuck  has  been 
at  Halle,  he  has  held  similar  meetings  at  his  house  once  or  twice  a 
week.  He  also  conducts  a  missionary  meeting  every  month,  at 
which  he  presents  the  latest  intelligence  respecting  American, 
English  and  other  missions.  He  labors  much  in  preparation  for  this 
meeting,  and  imparts  to  it  a  lively  interest.  This  missionary  spirit 
would  not  be  indeed  particularly  noticeable  among  American 
Christians,  but  it  is  to  be  viewed  in  contrast  with  the  prejudices  and 
the  dormancy  of  even  the  evangelical  party  in  his  own  land.  Read 
the  description  of  the  want  of  religious  enterprise  among  German 
Christians,  in  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  I.  pp.  438 — 451.  The  German 
Professors  ordinarily  have  little  or  no  personal  intercourse  with  their 
pupils,  are  often  wholly  unacquainted  with  them.  The  students  are 
too  numerous,  and  the  Professors  too  much  absorbed  in  study,  to 
permit  a  great  degree  of  social  interview.  Neander  and  Dr.  F.  Strauss 
at  Berlin,  however,  have  labored  to  exert  a  personal  religious  influence 
upon  their  scholars ;  and  Tholuck,  as  he  has  a  very  peculiar  interest 
and  tact  in  conversation,  employs  his  talent  with  fidelity.  Prof. 
Sears,  writing  from  Halle  in  1834,  says,  "  The  uncommon  pressure 
of  Tholuck's  public  labors  leaves  him  no  leisure  time.  But 
when  he  walks,  which  he  does  twice  a  day,  and  an  hour  and  a  half  at 
each  time,  he  invites  three  or  four  students  of  similar  religious 
character  to  accompany  him.  With  these  he  converses  in  a  manner 
best  adapted  to  win  them  to  a  religious  life.  With  the  serious  he 
comes  directly  to  the  point.  With  others  he  spreads  his  net  wider ; 
and  through  the  medium  of  literary,  philosophical,  or  theological  dis- 
cussion, conducted  with  vivacity  and  the  utmost  affection,  he  steals 
upon  their  hearts  and  holds  them  his  captives.    Another  company 


212 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


are,  for  the  same  purpose,  invited  to  his  dinner  table  ;  and  thus 
daily  he  spends  several  hours,  as  a  friend,  patron  and  pastor  to  the 
more  hopeful  among  his  pupils.  If  they  are  indigent,  he  remits  their 
tuition  ;  and  if  he  publishes  a  sermon  or  a  pamphlet,  the  profit  goes 
to  them.    His  extensive  and  choice  library  is  always  at  their  service." 

In  addition  to  the  personal  influence  which  Tholuck  exerts  upon 
his  pupils,  he  conducts  an  extensive  correspondence  both  with  his 
own  countrymen  and  with  foreigners,  and  is  distinguished  for  his 
attention  to  the  literati  who  visit  Halle  from  other  lands,  and  par- 
ticularly from  England  and  America.  The  pious  foreigner  feels  at 
home  when  with  Tholuck;  and  nearly  every  one,  coming  within  the 
reach  of  his  influence,  feels  a  strong  attachment  to  him.  "  To  the 
American  Christian,"  said  Prof.  Robinson  in  1831,  "  who  travels  on 
this  part  of  the  continent,  Tholuck  is  undoubtedly  the  most  interest- 
ing person  whose  acquaintance  he  will  make.  He  possesses  a 
greater  personal  influence  and  reputation  than  any  other  theologian 
in  Germany."  Bib.  Repos.  Vol.  I.  p.  29.  His  opposers  ascribe  his 
popularity  to  his  extensive  and  intimate  intercourse  with  foreigners, 
to  the  strong  personal  attachments  w  hich  he  has  formed,  and  to  his 
connections  with  a  religious  party ;  as  well  as  to  what  they  are 
obliged  to  acknowledge,  his  superior  talent  in  lecturing,  and  some 
considerable  power  in  his  writings.    Cons.  Lex.  Vol.  IV.  p.  627. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  notwithstanding  Prof.  Tholuck  has 
for  a  long  time  given  to  the  world  two  or  three  volumes  a  year,  some 
of  them  highly  labored  ;  and  in  connection  with  these  efforts  for  the 
public  has  delivered  regular  lectures  at  the  University,  sometimes 
two  or  three  lectures  a  day  ;  has  preached  statedly  once  a  fortnight, 
and  on  frequent  intermediate  occasions  ;  has  maintained  the  responsi- 
ble and  onerous  station  of  a  leader  in  the  evangelical  party  for  the 
period  of  nearly  twenty  years,  and  is  at  the  present  time  but  just 
forty  years  old  ;  and  notwithstanding  he  has  combined  with  all  these 
labors  a  sedulous  attention  to  the  personal  duties  of  a  gentleman,  a 
Christian,  and  a  pastor,  he  has  been  afflicted  during  the  whole  period 
with  feeble  and  precarious  health,  and  has  been  reduced  at  times 
nearly  to  a  state  of  blindness.  Suffering  under  a  broken  constitution, 
he  has  been  obliged,  like  Neander  and  Hengstenberg,  to  depend  on 
rigid  physical  discipline  for  ability  to  prosecute  his  studies.  His 
person  is  slender,  his  temperament  nervous,  and  his  life  is  a  per- 
petual conflict  between  mind  and  body.     His  appearance  is  at 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


213 


present  that  of  a  man  prematurely  grown  old.  It  is  to  be  earnestly 
hoped,  that  he  may  add  another  to  the  many  illustrations  of  the 
remark,  that  men  of  the  feeblest  constitutions  often  accomplish  the 
most,  and  live  the  longest. 

The  philosophical  opinions  of  Tholuck  are  peculiar ;  more  con- 
genial however  with  the  prevalent  systems  of  his  own  countrymen, 
than  with  any  other.  He  is  a  decided  opponent  of  Locke,  Reid, 
Stewart  and  Brown,  of  the  whole  "sensual"  system,  so  called, 
which  prevails  in  Great  Britain  and  America.  He  does  not  how- 
ever entirely  sympathize  with  either  Kant,  Schelling,  Fichte  or  Hegel. 
He  may  be  called  perhaps  an  eclectic  transcendentalist ;  having  a 
system  of  his  own,  which  is  culled  from  the  various  systems  of 
what  is  termed  the  spiritual  philosophy.  We  have  understood  that 
he  finds  no  objection,  in  his  speculations,  to  the  new  theory  of  animal 
magnetism,  but  has  avowed  his  belief  in  it,  and  defended  some  of  its 
principles  in  his  lectures  on  theology.  Hegel  and  Schleiermacher, 
and  indeed  many  of  his  most  distinguished  countrymen  have  avowed 
the  same  belief.  The  following  note  in  Hegel's  Encyclopaedic  der 
Philosophic  pp.  591,  592,  will  indicate  (so  far  as  it  is  understood) 
the  views  which  this  prince  of  the  transcendentalists  entertains  of 
Tholuck's  philosophical  tendencies.  "  The  rich  contributions  which 
Tholuck  has  given  us  in  his  Anthology  of  the  Oriental  Mystics,  from 
the  poems  of  Dschelaleddin,  and  others,  were  produced  with  views 
like  those  which  we  have  here  presented.  In  his  introduction, 
Tholuck  shows  what  a  thorough  comprehension  he  has  of  the  mystic 
philosophy ;  he  there  determines  very  accurately  the  character  of 
the  Eastern,  and  that  of  the  Western  and  Christian  writers  in  refer- 
ence to  this  system.  Notwithstanding  the  dissimilarity  of  these 
classes,  they  have  the  common  designation  of  mystics.  The  union 
of  mysticism  with  what  is  denominated  Pantheism  includes  according 
to  Tholuck,  p.  33,  that  inward  vitality  of  the  mind  and  soul,  which 
essentially  consists  in  this,  the  annihilation  of  that  external  All,  which 
is  wont  to  be  ascribed  to  Pantheism.  In  other  places  Tholuck 
acquiesces  in  the  common  but  obscure  representation  of  Pantheism. 
He  had  no  interest  in  a  fundamental  discussion  of  the  subject,  fur- 
ther than  was  necessary  for  ascertaining  the  feeling  of  the  writer 
whom  he  quoted.  He  seems  to  be  seized  with  a  wonderful  en- 
thusiasm in  behalf  of  a  mystical  philosophy,  which  is  to  be  called, 
in  the  usual  sense  of  the  term,  entirely  pantheistic.    But  yet  when- 


214 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


ever  he  undertakes  to  philosophize,  (p.  12,  seq.),  he  does  not  go 
beyond  the  ordinary  view  taken  by  the  metaphysical  understanding, 
nor  beyond  its  indefinite  forms  of  thought." 

In  his  theological  speculations,  as  well  as  philosophical,  Tholuck 
is  independent  and  untrammelled.  It  needs  not  to  be  stated  that  the 
spirit  of  his  theology  is  eminently  evangelical,  and  such  as  exposes 
him  to  the  severe  animadversions  of  the  rationalists.  They  com- 
plain of  his  fanatical  "  mystical"  pietism,  as  his  great  weakness.  It 
must  be  remembered,  however,  that  in  his  orthodoxy,  Tholuck  is  a 
German,  and  not  a  Briton,  or  of  British  descent.  He  makes  no 
effort  to  regulate  his  creed  by  any  of  our  formularies,  but  examines 
every  doctrine  for  himself,  as  if  he  were  the  first  man  who  had 
investigated  it.  He  adopts  the  prevalent  continental  view  of  the 
Sabbath,  and  such  a  view  of  the  nature  and  extent  of  inspiration  as 
no  evangelical  Christian  in  America  would  approve  :  see  Bib.  Repos. 
Vol.  VIII.  p.  487.  He  is  an  admirer  and  eulogist  of  Calvin  :  Plato, 
Augustine,  Thomas  Aquinas  and  Calvin  are  said  to  be  his  favorite 
authors  ;  yet  he  sometimes  expresses  such  feelings  in  reference  to 
the  peculiarities  of  Calvinism,  as  can  be  palliated  only  on  the  ground 
of  a  mental  structure  and  habits  of  association  altogether  peculiar. 

The  believers  in  the  final  restoration  of  the  lost  have  sometimes, 
in  triumph,  claimed  Prof.  Tholuck  as  an  authority  in  their  favor. 
They  have  rested  their  claim  on  the  representations,  which  several 
of  our  evangelical  writers  have  given  ofTholuck's  belief  on  this  sub- 
ject ;  representations  which  have  been  misunderstood  by  some,  and 
misinterpreted  by  more.  In  the  first  place,  there  can  be  no  doubt, 
that  the  whole  spirit  of  Tholuck's  theology  is  as  dissonant  from  that 
of  American  universalists,  as  music  from  discord.  In  the  second 
place,  the  tendency  which  his  speculations  may  have  had,  at  a 
former  period,  toward  the  doctrine  of  the  final  restoration  of  all 
mankind,  cannot  be  ascribed  to  them,  in  the  same  degree,  at  present. 
His  mind  was  once  fluctuating  on  the  subject ;  and  the  difference 
between  a  permanent  conviction  that  a  doctrine  is  true,  and  a  tempo- 
rary inclination  toward  the  doctrine  is  too  obvious  to  be  insisted  on. 
In  the  third  place,  the  notions  which  he  may  have  entertained  in 
sympathy  with  the  doctrine  of  universal  salvation,  he  never  made 
prominent  in  his  system  ;  never  thrust  them  forward  into  a  con- 
spicuous place,  nor  even  avowed  them,  except  with  the  caution  of 
one  who  knew  the  licentious  influence  which  they  might  exert.  An 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK.  215 

opinion,  when  entertained  in  the  shape  of  a  subordinate  and  inciden- 
tal theory,  is  as  different  in  its  influence  from  that  same  opinion, 
when  entertained  in  the  shape  of  an  essential  and  conspicuous 
doctrine,  as  the  alcohol  in  bread  is  different  in  its  effect  from  the 
alcohol  in  brandy.  A  man's  physical  system  may  be,  on  the  whole, 
sound,  though  it  be  not  free  from  some  local  disease  in  a  foot  or 
finger  ;  but  his  state  is  essentially  different,  when  disease  has  in- 
fected the  whole  body,  and  finds  no  stamina  in  the  system  to  coun- 
teract it.  In  the  fourth  place,  Tholuck  never  adopted  a  "  positive" 
belief  in  the  doctrine  of  the  final  blessedness  of  all  men.  It  was  a 
tendency  of  mind  to  such  a  belief,  a  wish,  a  hope  that  it  might  be 
confirmed  by  fact,  rather  than  the  "  positive"  belief  itself. 

But  in  the  fifth  place,  the  inclination  of  Tholuck's  mind  toward 
the  obnoxious  doctrine,  he  defended  not  on  exegetical  so  much  as 
on  dogmatical  grounds.  Under  date  of  Dec.  22,  1837,  he  states  in 
reference  to  expressions  which  he  had  made  three  years  previous, 
"If  I  remember  right,  my  expressions  at  the  time  (1834),  were 
these :  dogmatically,  i.  e.  as  a  theologian  I  feel  myself  drawn 
toward  this  opinion  (i.  e.  the  doctrine  of  ultimate  universal  salvation) ; 
but  exegetically,  i.  e.  as  an  interpreter,  I  do  not  know  how  to  justify 
it."  As  a  speculative  theologian,  he  was  inclined  to  draw  an  infer- 
ence in  favor  of  the  final  restoration  of  all  men,  from  the  love  and 
mercy  of  God  ;  and  also,  from  the  peculiar  philosophical  objections 
which  he  has,  in  common  with  his  evangelical  countrymen,  against 
a  perpetual  division,  dissension,  Zwiespalt,  in  the  moral  universe. 
When  his  mind  was  directed  to  these  speculative  principles,  he  ex- 
pressed a  strong  attraction  toward  the  obnoxious  doctrine.  So  too, 
when  his  mind  was  directed  to  such  passages  of  Scripmre  as  Acts 
3:  21.  Rom.  5:  18,  11:  36.  1  Cor.  15:22—28.  Col.  1:  16.  Phil.  2: 
20.  Heb.  2:  10.  10:  13,  14,  he  sometimes  expressed  a  still  stronger 
leaning  toward  the  doctrine.  These  passages,  like  a  magnet,  would 
draw  him  toward  a  belief,  from  which,  however,  he  would  be  soon 
drawn  back  again  by  other  passages,  attracting  in  a  different  way. 
Accordingly  he  said,  even  at  that  time,  that  to  the  texts  above  sug- 
gested, "  other  important  passages  stand  in  direct  opposition  ;  those 
which  speak  of  eternal  punishment,  Matt.  25:  41,46.  1  Thess.  5:  3. 
Jude  7  ; — those  which  speak  of  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  Matt. 
12:  22  ; — those  which  speak  of  Judas,  Matt.  26:  24  ;  —  those  which 
say  that  Christ  did  not  die  for  all  but  for  many,  Matt.  26:  28,  and 
20:  28."    Thus  troubled  by  the  apparent  opposition  between  two 


216 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


classes  of  arguments,  thus  drawn  by  the  two  opposing  forces,  first 
one  way  and  then  the  other,  Tholuck  often,  in  view  of  a  single  class 
of  reasons,  made  expressions  which,  considered  apart  from  expres- 
sions made  in  view  of  the  opposite  class,  would  give  a  wrong  idea  of 
his  belief  as  a  whole.  The  arguments,  prominent  in  his  mind  at 
one  moment,  elicited  expressions  of  confidence,  which  would  be 
essentially  qualified  by  expressions,  made  at  another  moment,  when 
different  arguments  were  more  intently  examined.  Many  of  the 
illustrations,  employed  to  reconcile  Paul  and  James  on  the  subject 
of  faith,  may  be  employed  to  reconcile  Tholuck  with  himself  on  the 
subject  of  punishment.  The  remark  of  Prof.  Sears,  in  reference  to 
Tholuck's  mental  character,  seems  to  intimate  the  true  mode  of 
making  this  reconciliation.  The  remark  is,  simply,  that  Tholuck's 
mind  is  not  like  that  of  Locke,  or  Edwards,  or  Robert  Hall,  is  not 
distinguished  for  systematic  order,  or  exact  balance,  or  philosophi- 
cal discipline.  The  phraseology  of  such  a  man,  in  a  particular 
mental  state  is  not  therefore  to  be  interpreted,  as  the  phraseology 
would  be  of  a  more  deliberate  and  cautious  philosopher,  like  Dr. 
Reid  or  Dugald  Stewart.  Accordingly  we  find,  that  when  Tholuck 
has  intended  to  express  his  opinion  as  a  whole,  the  leaning  of  his 
mind  in  view  of  the  two  classes  of  evidence,  both  at  the  same  time 
equally  prominent  in  his  mind,  he  has,  at  such  times,  given  prefer- 
ence to  the  exegetical  argument,  above  the  dogmatical ;  and 
to  the  positive  declarations  of  Scripture,  above  those  which 
are  susceptible  of  a  qualified  sense.  Thus,  after  a  compre- 
hensive view  of  both  sides,  he  said  four  years  ago,  "  There- 
fore we  must  conclude  as  follows :  the  perfectly  good,  good  in 
the  christian  sense,  will  be  eternally  happy.  The  perfectly 
sinful,  those  who  to  eternity  never  receive  Christ,  will  be  eternally 
unhappy.  But  the  question  remains,  will  any  eternally  reject 
Christ?  If  we  consider  the  freedom  of  the  will,  and  consider  that  it 
is  the  curse  of  sin  to  become  more  and  more  hardened,  we  cannot 
deny  the  possibility.  Although,  therefore,  God  has  an  infinity  of 
methods  of  affecting  the  sinner,  as  many  as  the  sun  has  rays,  Rom. 
11:  32,  33,  still  men  can  always  resist;  and  Matt.  12:  32  expressly 
declares,  that  there  will  be  those,  who  will  be  forever  unsusceptible 
of  the  Spirit  and  of  forgiveness.  Indeed  this  passage,  more  than  any 
other,  may  show  (durfte  darthun),  that  some  will  be  eternally  har- 
dened." 

In  the  sixth  place,  the  more  recent  developments  of  Tholuck's 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


217 


mind  discover  an  increased  repugnance  to  the  doctrine  of  universal 
salvation.  Writing  from  Halle,  Dec.  22,  1837,  and  stating  that  he 
had,  in  1834,  expressed  a  hope  of  the  final  salvation  of  all  men,  he 
says,  "  I  confessed  at  the  time  that  I  did  not  know  how  to  reconcile 
(this  hope)  with  the  clear  passages  in  Scripture,  which  made  me 
reluctant  even  at  that  time,  to  embrace  that  opinion  as  an  unques- 
tionable truth.  Mature  reflection,  however,  on  the  sin  against  the 
Holy  Ghost  has  made  me  since  abandon  the  idea  of  the  final  restora- 
tion of  all  men  ;  for  what  Christ  says  concerning  it  seems  too  clear- 
ly to  imply  a  degree  of  opposition  against  holy  truth,  which  leads  to 
eternal  unhappiness." 

In  the  seventh  place,  the  process  of  Tholuck's  mind,  in  reference 
to  the  doctrine  of  universal  salvation,  furnishes  a  strong  collateral 
argument  against  the  truth  of  it.  The  opposers,  rather  than  the 
friends  of  this  doctrine,  may  derive  encouragement  from  the  au- 
thority of  his  name.  —  It  is  often  said  that  American  Chris- 
tians acquiesce  in  the  belief  of  unending  punishment  under 
the  influence  of  feeling  and  prejudice  ;  but  Tholuck's  feel- 
ing and  prejudice  have  been  against  this  belief;  he  has  hoped 
that  it  would  be  proved  untrue,  and  has  wished  in  vain  to 
prove  it  so  himself. — The  belief  in  the  doctrine  of  eternal  punish- 
ment among  us  has  been  often  ascribed  to  fashion  ;  not  only,  how- 
ever, has  it  been  fashionable  to  disbelieve  it  among  the  more  popular 
German  divines,  but  Tholuck  says  even  of  the  evangelical  theolo- 
gians, "  a  good  number  of  them  cherish  a  hope  of  a  final  conversion 
of  all  men  ;  though  there  will  be,  I  dare  say,  but  few,  who  allow 
themselves  more  than  a  hope,  and  who  would  venture  positively  to 
say,  that  such  a  restoration  will  take  place."  It  is  then  in  defiance 
of  fashion,  that  he  himself  absolutely  abandons  this  hope. — The 
doctrine  of  eternal  punishment  is  often  said  to  be  contrary  to  the 
Bible.  But  Dr.  Tholuck,  who  has  spent  his  life  in  the  study  of  the 
Bible,  declared  even  when  he  was  struggling  to  disprove  the  doctrine, 
that,  '  to  be  sure  most  of  the  Bible  appears  to  assert  an  everlasting 
punishment  of  the  wicked,  and  yet  he  could  not  but  hope  that  this 
may  be  the  result  of  a  wrong  interpretation.''  An  interpreter,  then, 
even  while  under  the  blinding  influence  of  a  desire  to  overthrow  the 
orthodox  belief  is  compelled,  if  he  be  a  fair  interpreter,  to  acknowledge 
its  harmony  with  the  general  current  of  the  Scripture,  and  to  confess 
his  inability  to  accommodate  the  exegetical  evidence  in  favor  of  it 
28 


218 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


to  the  speculative  inferences  against  it.  A  creed  can  be  worthy  of 
but  little  respect,  if  it  cannot  be  supported  from  the  Scriptures, 
by  a  skilful  philologist  when  stimulated  by  strong  desire  to  support 
it.  And  not  only  did  Dr.  Tholuck  acknowledge  that  the  Bible 
presented  insurmountable  obstacles  to  the  positive  belief  of  what  he 
hoped  might  be  true  ;  but  he  also  confessed  that  he  did  not  feel 
warranted  to  declare  from  the  pulpit  what  he  hoped,  and  that  the 
popular  belief  in  the  final  blessedness  of  all  men  would  probably 
exert  a  deleterious  influence.  If  a  friend  to  a  theory  acknowledges 
that  it  is  unfit  to  be  preached,  what  shall  its  enemies  say  of  it?  And 
if  this  friend  to  the  theory  has,  on  mature  reflection,  abandoned  it  as 
altogether  untenable,  what  shall  we  infer,  save  that  the  power  of 
truth  has  prevailed  over  hope,  and  desire,  and  prejudice  and  fashion, 
and  has  brought  one  of  the  most  erudite  theologians  in  the  world  to 
the  defence  of  what  he  once  doubted,  but  could  never  positively 
disbelieve. 

Prof.  Tholuck,  it  may  be  said,  continues  to  favor,  more  than  he 
should,  the  error  of  the  Restorationists,  by  still  retaining  a  hope, 
that  some  who  die  impenitent  will  be  restored.  But  as  he  positively 
believes,  that  some  will  be  lost  forever,  he  virtually  admits,  that  all 
the  objections  against  the  orthodox  doctrine  are  inconclusive.  If 
some  are  to  be  eternally  punished,  then  eternal  punishment  is  not, 
in  itself,  irreconcileable  with  the  attributes  of  God,  or  the  scheme  of 
the  mediatorial  government,  or  the  assertions  of  Scripture.  That 
Tholuck's  theories  and  conjectures  on  the  subject  of  a  second  pro- 
bation and  a  possible  delivery  of  some  from  their  adjudged  punish- 
ment are  not  precisely  what  we  wish  they  were,  and  hope  they  will 
be,  is  conceded.  Still  we  must  repeat,  in  palliation  of  his  unseemly 
error  on  this  subject,  the  noble  language  which  himself  employed  in 
reference  to  a  pernicious  doctrine  of  the  German  literati :  "  Far  be 
it  from  us  to  pronounce  woes  upon  every  one  whom  this  fearful 
error  holds  captive.  There  is  a  power  in  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
which,  although  it  does  not  release  from  all  guilt,  yet  seizes,  with  a 
force  difficult  to  resist,  individuals  as  well  as  communities."  The 
mind  that  has  wrought  out  its  own  way  into  so  much  truth,  against 
the  spirit  of  such  an  age  as  this  in  Germany,  is  not  to  be  inconsid- 
erately censured  for  its  occasional  aberrations.1 

1  The  preceding  information,  in  reference  to  Tholuck's  views  of  univer- 
salism,  has  been  derived  from  various  sources,  hut  principally  from  a  state- 
ment by  Rev.  Frof.  Sears  of  Newton,  in  the  Christian  Watchman  of  Jan. 
19,  1838. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


219 


As  a  Commentator,  Tholuck  has  many  excellences.  This  would 
be  anticipated  from  the  fact,  that  his  reading  has  been  so  various, 
and  his  memory  is  so  retentive  ;  from  his  almost  unequalled  facility 
in  acquiring  language,  and  his  peculiar  intimacy  with  the  Hebrew 
and  its  cognate  tongues.  He  is  able  to  write  and  converse  in  a 
great  variety  of  languages,  as  the  English,  Italian,  Dutch,  French, 
Spanish,  Latin,  Greek,  Arabic,  Persian,  and  others.  He  is,  of 
course,  qualified  to  illustrate  the  sacred  text  by  a  multiplicity  of 
references ;  and  he  quotes  with  peculiar  pertinence  and  effect  from 
the  Oriental,  and  especially  from  the  Rabbinical  writings.  For  a 
single  specimen,  read  his  comment  on  John  7:  37 — 39,  and  Rom. 
5:  7.  The  classical  quotations  too  in  his  commentaries,  and  es- 
pecially in  his  Comm.  on  the  Rom.,  are  eminently  valuable.  His 
researches  have  been  extended  over  so  wide  a  surface,  and  he  seizes 
such  a  multitude  of  important  principles,  that  we  ought  not  to  look 
in  his  commentaries  for  that  punctiliousness  of  accuracy,  that  close 
philosophical  argumentation,  which  we  may  find  in  works  of  a  nar- 
rower range.  The  merits  of  such  a  mind  as  his,  are  not  to  be  de- 
termined by  the  number  of  his  faults,  but  by  the  excess  of  his 
excellences  above  his  faults. 

The  same  erudition,  enthusiasm,  and  glow  of  piety  which  make 
Dr.  Tholuck  interesting  as  a  commentator,  make  him  still  more  so 
as  a  Lecturer.  Though  he  is  associated  with  such  men  as  Weg- 
scheider  and  Gesenius,  his  lectures  were  attended,  in  1834,  more 
fully  than  those  of  either  of  his  colleagues,  and  they  are  often  more 
attractive  than  any,  except  those  of  Gesenius.  Nor  are  they  merely 
attractive.  They  excite  the  apprehension  even  in  those  who  resist 
their  argument,  that,  after  all,  the  "  fanaticism"  of  Tholuck  may 
be  right  reason.  "  It  is  a  common  remark,"  says  Prof.  Sears,  "  that 
if  a  young  man  do  not  wish  to  become  a  pietist,  let  him  avoid 
Tholuck's  lecture-room."  "  Of  the  theological  students  at  Halle 
scarcely  one  is  to  be  found,  who  comes  to  the  university  with  per- 
sonal piety.  Of  the  five  hundred  who  are  now  studying  theology 
here,  perhaps  there  are  sixty  serious  young  men,  and  about  thirty 
hopefully  pious  ;  and  these  are  the  fruits  of  Tholuck's  labors.  Two 
of  these  said  to  him  a  few  days  ago,  that  they  never  read  the  Gospel 
of  John,  till  they  heard  theological  lectures  upon  it !"  For  the 
number  of  pious  students  four  years  previous  to  this,  see  Bib.  Repos. 
Vol.  I.  p.  426. 


220 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


It  was  to  notice  Prof.  Tholuck  as  a  preacher,  that  the  following 

sketch  was  more  particularly  designed. 

One  of  the  most  obvious  peculiarities  of  his  sermons  appears  in 
their  plan.  The  introduction  always,  and  the  proposition  often  pre- 
cedes the  announcement  of  the  text.  This  however  is  no  peculiari- 
ty of  Tholuck,  in  comparison  with  other  German  preachers.  It  is 
their  custom  not  only  to  have  the  introduction  precede  the  text,  but 
sometimes  to  have  it  founded  upon  a  separate  passage  of  Scripture, 
and  occasionally  in  the  delivery  of  the  discourse,  to  have  a  hymn 
sung  by  the  choir,  between  the  introduction  and  the  body  of  the 
sermon.  The  "  division"  of  Tholuck's  discourses  is  generally 
definite  and  precise,  sometimes  beautiful ;  almost  always  simple  in 
its  nature,  but  often  artificial  in  its  mode  of  expression.  It  is  ex- 
pressed so  as  to  be  remembered,  and  often  according  to  the  lower 
principles  of  mnemonics.  Hence  the  paronomasia  and  antithesis 
which  are  employed  in  the  various  '  topics'  of  his  division.  In  two 
of  his  sermons  he  expresses  his  division  thus  :  first,  VVorin,  secondly, 
Warum  ;  in  two  others,  thus,  first  the  Anfang,  secondly,  the  Fort- 
gang,  and  thirdly,  the  Ausgang.  See  Vol.  I.  p.  34,  and  II.  p.  40. 
Vol.  II.  p.  63,  and  IV.  p.  28.  His  most  objectionable  form  of  ex- 
pressing a  division  is  found  in  Vol.  II.  p.  124,  in  his  sermon  on 
Acts  1:  1 — 14.  'The  quickening  thoughts,  to  which  this  narration 
leads  us,  are  the  following  : 

1.  Die  Stfitte  seines  Scheidrns,  die  Sttitte  seines  Lcidens  ; 

2.  Verhiillet  ist  sein  Anfang,  verhiillet  ist  sein  Ausgang ; 

3.  Der  Schluss  von  seinen  Wegea  ist  fur  die  seinen  Segen  ; 

4.  Er  ist  von  uns  geschieden  und  ist  uns  doch  geblieben  ; 

5.  Er  bleibt  verKuHt  den  Seinen,  bis  er  wird  klar  erscheinen. 
Tholuck  would  perhaps  apologize  for  such  a  device,  by  appealing 

to  the  alphabetical  Psalms,  to  the  genealogical  table  in  the  first  of 
Matthew,  and  to  the  impression  made  by  such  an  arrangement  upon 
the  memory,  especially  that  of  children.  But  it  seems  to  be  one  of 
the  instances  in  which  his  oriental  cast  of  thought  needs  to  be  chas- 
tened. 

Another  characteristic  of  Tholuck's  sermons  is,  the  absence  of  all 
display  of  learning,  of  abstruse  thought,  and  long  continued  argu- 
ment. His  freedom  from  literary  ostentation  is  the  more  commen- 
dable, as  he  has  so  vast  an  amount  of  literature  which  he  might  dis- 
play.   If  the  classically  laden  discourses  of  Jeremy  Taylor  were 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


221 


written,  at  least  many  of  them,  for  the  family  and  domestics  at 
Golden  Grove,  we  may  well  admire  that  Tholuck  has  written  with 
such  modest  plainness  for  the  audience  of  a  German  university.  That 
he  should  give  us  likewise  so  little  of  the  obscure  and  abstruse,  is 
the  more  praiseworthy,  as  transcendentalism  like  his  often  leads  its 
possessor  above  the  comprehension  of  the  uninitiated.  His  discourses 
however  are  by  no  means  destitute  of  thought  and  argument,  as  is 
shown  from  such  specimens  as  the  first,  third  and  fourth  in  this 
volume.  That  they  are  less  solid  and  consecutive  than  many  Eng- 
lish and  American  discourses,  results  from  his  principles  of  sermon- 
izing. The  Germans,  being  excessively  attached  to  music,  devote 
a  greater  proportion  of  the  hour  of  worship  to  this  exercise,  than  we 
do.  The  devotional  service  of  their  churches  occupies  a  longer 
time,  than  that  of  ours.  Consequently  the  sermon  must  be  brief, 
and  its  brevity  forbids  protracted  argumentation.  The  minds  of  the 
hearers  too  are  unfitted,  in  Tholuck's  opinion,  for  a  severe  reasoning 
process,  and  are  more  in  need  of  spiritual  than  of  intellectual  ap- 
peals. The  argument  of  a  sermon,  he  says,  should  never  be  scho- 
lastic, but  should  be  founded  on  the  moral  feelings;  and  in  the 
house  of  God,  the  heart  rather  than  the  intellect,  should  lead  the 
way  into  the  truth. 

It  must  of  course  be  conceded,  that  different  customs  of  society 
demand  different  modes  of  pulpit  address ;  yet  when  we  consider, 
that  the  Sabbath  is  the  great  day,  and  in  many  cases  the  only  day 
for  popular  instruction  on  the  doctrines  of  religion,  it  seems  to  be  an 
obvious  necessity,  that  sermons  should  be  rich  in  instructive  matter  -r 
by  all  means  not  too  abstruse,  bv  no  means  too  simple.  Is  not  the 
elevated  theological  character  of  some  portions  of  Great  Britain  and 
the  United  States  a  comment  on  the  utility  of  the  didactic  and  argu- 
mentative style  of  preaching,  common  in  those  regions  ? 

Another  characteristic  of  Tholuck's  sermons  is,  the  elevation  and 
richness  of  religious  sentiment  which  they  display.  His  standard  of 
christian  character  is  much  more  like  that  of  Paul  in  such  chapters 
as  the  eighth  of  Romans,  than  is  common  among  British  and  Amer- 
ican divines.  He  loves  to  exhibit  and  dilate  upon  the  vast  difference 
between  a  renewed  and  an  unrenewed  man.  His  religious  feel- 
ings, too,  as  exhibited  in  his  sermons  are  deep,  full,  overflowing. 
He  evidently  has  thought  for  himself,  and  as  a  consequence  has  felt 
for  himself.    Hence  the  originality  of  his  emotions ;  his  freedom 


222  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 

from  stereotyped  trains  of  feeling,  and  his  new,  fresh,  warm  senti- 
ment, gushing  forth  from  a  full  heart.  He  everywhere  shows  that 
he  has  drunk  deep  at  the  sacred  fountain  ;  that  he  has  sympathized 
and  held  intimate  communion  with  the  old  Prophets,  and  imbued 
his  soul  with  the  spirit  of  Paul. 

Tholuck's  sermons  are  also  characterized  by  liveliness  and  ex- 
uberance of  fancy.  He  is  a  poet  in  his  prose.  His  imagination  knows 
no  bounds.  He  resembles  in  this  respect  the  poets  of  antiquity  ; 
he  takes  his  descriptions  from  real  life,  not  at  second  hand  from  the 
pictures  of  others.  The  advantages  to  be  derived  from  reading  his 
sermons  are  similar  to  those  derivable  from  the  ancient,  and  from  all 
other  original  authors.  His  style,  as  well  as  his  mind,  exhibits  the 
fertility  of  the  Orientals  ;  and  every  word  seems  to  be  pregnant  with 
life.  That  there  is  often  a  gorgeousness  of  fancy,  an  excess  of 
figurative  allusion,  an  indulgence  in  paronomasia  and  other  conceits, 
we  must  admit ;  and  where  is  the  oriental  writer  who  has  not  the 
same  characteristics  ?  And  where  is  the  poet  of  great  fertility  of 
imagination,  who  does  not  sometimes  appear  exuberant  ?  Tholuck 
has  genius  in  the  popular  sense  of  that  term,  and  therefore  his  faults 
are  those  of  genius,  positive  rather  than  negative.  With  the  pliant, 
exhaustless,  and  emphatically  living  German  language  for  his  instru- 
ment, we  do  not  wonder  that  his  fancy  often  revels,  like  that  of  an 
Asiatic. 

Tholuck's  sermons  are  characterized  by  vigor  and  boldness.  His 
quickness  of  thought,  his  rapidity  of  transition  often  give  an  air  of 
abruptness  to  his  style,  and  sometimes  an  obscurity  ;  but  they  also 
save  it  from  tameness,  and  that  feeble,  torpid  correctness,  which  is 
the  innocence  of  a  compiler,  rather  than  the  virtue  of  a  thinking 
man.  The  energetic  boldness  of  his  style  is  equal  to  that  of  his 
sentiment.  When  we  read  his  discourses,  we  are  to  remember  that 
they  were  preached  in  the  very  citadel  of  rationalism,  to  young  men 
who  were  cherishing  that  peculiar  independence,  and  unmanagable 
self-esteem  characteristic  of  a  university  life  ;  to  candidates  for 
the  ministry,  who  had  no  sober  view  of  the  nature  of  their  office, 
but  looked  down  with  contempt  upon  the  religion  of  the  heart ;  to  an 
audience,  the  vast  majority  of  whom  were  not  only  violent  in  their 
prejudices  against  the  preacher's  doctrine,  but  still  more  so  against 
his  religious  feeling.  The  theological  students  at  the  German  uni- 
versities are  sometimes  required  to  attend  divine  service  on  the 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


223 


Sabbatli ;  and  sometimes,  like  the  law  and  medical  students,  are 
allowed  to  consult  their  own  inclinations  on  the  subject.  The  ma- 
jority of  the  professors,  theological  as  well  as  others,  are  seldom  seen 
in  the  house  of  God.  Tholuck  usually  attracts  throngs  of  the 
Rationalists  to  hear  him,  and  the  boldness  of  his  sermons  cannot  be 
properly  appreciated,  unless  it  be  remembered,  that  they  were  writ- 
ten for  infidels  who  were  expecting  soon  to  occupy  the  pulpit ;  to 
that  class  of  infidels,  who  are  peculiarly  unsusceptible  of  religious 
influence ;  to  men  who  were  enjoying  the  daily  instructions  of 
Gesenius  and  "  the  standard-bearer  of  Rationalism,"  Wegscheider. 
But,  notwithstanding  the  imperviousness  of  his  auditory  to  religious 
impression,  Tholuck  is  by  no  means  like  one  that  beats  the  air.  By 
his  boldness  of  appeal  he  often  produces  great  excitement  of  feeling. 
There  is  one  sermon  in  particular,  that  in  Vol.  I.  pp.  147 — 160, 
which  elicited  peculiar  violence  of  resentment,  and  may  be  now 
alluded  to,  as  an  exhibition  of  Tholuck's  moral  courage. 

The  sermon  is  entitled  "  The  Horrible  Exchange."  It  is  founded 
on  Matt.  27:  15 — 26.  Its  object  is  to  compare  the  guilt  of  those 
who  believe  in  the  mere  humanity  of  Christ,  with  the  guilt  of  those 
who  cried, 4  release  Barabbas  and  crucify  Jesus.'  To  hearers,  who 
look  up  to  him  with  the  expressive  eye  of  astonishment,  indignation, 
or  conscious  guilt,  he  announces  his  design  to  describe  first,  the 
horrible  exchange  that  unbelieving  Israel  made,  when,  instead  of 
Jesus  the  Son  of  God  they  chose  Jesus  Barabbas ;  and  secondly, 
the  horrible  exchange  that  the  unbelieving  world  now  make,  when, 
instead  of  considering  Jesus  the  Son  of  God  and  man,  they  choose 
to  consider  him  as  the  mere  child  of  man.  After  depicting  the 
barbarous  conduct  of  Israel  in  preferring  the  criminal  to  the  Messiah, 
he  proceeds  to  show  that  the  denial  of  Christ's  divine  nature  is  a 
virtual  charge  of  haughtiness,  presumption  and  blasphemy  against 
him ;  that  it  represents  him  as  a  robber  of  the  divine  glory,  in  his 
aspiring  to  receive  divine  homage  ;  as  a  malefactor,  who  himself 
needed  expiation  and  whose  cross  could  be  nothing  better  than  a 
scaffold,  on  which  he  died  for  his  own  iniquities.  He  follows  the 
pretended  Saviour  to  the  final  judgment,  and  describes  the  manner 
in  which  he  must  be  condemned  for  his  treasonable  claims.  He 
then  adds  a  pungent  reproof  to  the  candidates  for  the  sacred  office, 
who  thus  impeach  the  virtue  of  Jesus,  and  closes  with  a  solemn 
prayer,  that  their  hearts  may  not  accuse  them,  in  the  holiest  hours 
of  their  life,  for  paying  worship  to  a  peccable  child  of  man. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


The  Stud,  und  Knt  Vol.  VIII.  243 — 4,  while  it  sanctions  the 
logical  process  of  the  sermon,  condemns  the  revolting  terms,  in 
which  it  depicts  the  consequences  of  the  humanitarian  theory  ;  and 
decides,  that  the  argument  is  pressed  to  a  greater  extent,  and  in  a 
holder  way,  than  the  religious  sensibilities  of  an  audience  will  justify. 

Fervid  and  bold,  however,  as  the  discourses  of  Tholuck  are,  they 
arc  distinguished,  in  a  still  higher  degree,  by  tenderness  and  child- 
like simplicity.  It  has  been  said  of  him,  that  "he  has  read  every 
thing  f9  it  may  also  be  said  of  him,  that  he  feels  everything.  One 
of  his  characteristic  expressions  is,  u  When  God  smites,  the  smitten 
man  should  receive  the  blow  not  as  the  stone  would,  but  as  the  man 
would,  or  rather  as  the  trustful  child  of  God.  Is  the  cup  bitter? 
man  should  have  sensibility  to  taste  the  bitterness,  but  he  should  also 
taste  the  sweet  drops  in  the  cup,  which  are  the  love  of  his  Father  in 
heaven."  The  delicacy  of  sentiment,  the  gentleness  of  manner,  the 
childlike  sweetness  and  sincerity,  which  characterize  the  preaching 
of  Tholuck,  are  conspicuous  in  the  second,  fourth,  and  fifth  sermons 
of  this  volume,  and  also  in  the  notes,  pp.  176,  7.  181,2.  191,  4,  5,  8. 

There  is  another  peculiarity  of  our  author's  sermons,  which  de- 
serves attention ;  their  variety  of  thought  and  expression.  Possess- 
ing great  constitutional  excitability,  he  feels  an  enthusiasm  on  a 
great  variety  of  subjects ;  and  as  his  themes  vary  in  their  nature, 
the  variations  in  his  style  are  correspondent.  Being  appropriate  to 
his  subject,  his  style  is  almost  as  free  from  monotony,  as  truth  itself  is 
free.  There  is  sometimes  the  softness  of  an  infant,  and  sometimes 
the  impetuosity  of  a  war-horse  ;  now  withering  rebuke,  and  now  al- 
most lover-like  fondness  ;  here  gorgeousness  of  fancy  ;  there  refine- 
ment of  analysis  ;  great  keenness  of  perception  intermingled  with 
ease  and  calmness  of  sentiment.  From  one  sermon,  a  reader  might 
form  an  opinion  that  iis  author  was  too  much  inclined  to  extrava- 
gance of  declamation  ;  from  another,  to  severity  of  personal  re- 
proof; from  a  third,  to  the  narrative  style;  from  a  fourth,  to  the 
expository  and  paraphrastic.  It  were  indeed  wonderful,  if  amid  such 
multifarious  variety  of  matter  and  expression,  there  were  not  some 
offences  against  chasteness  and  prosaic  accuracy.  His  German  is 
not  the  most  classical  ;  and,  as  a  writer  as  well  as  a  man,  he  must 
be  ranked  among  the  sensitive  rather  than  the  calculating. 

In  his  manner  of  delivery,  Tholuck  is  animated  but  not  boisterous  ; 
neat  but  not  fastidious.    He  writes  his  sermons,  but  does  not  read 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


225 


them  ;  neither,  in  strictness  of  terms,  does  he  preach  memoriter. 
He  is  careful  to  retain  in  memory  the  course  of  thought  and  the 
most  striking  illustrations  of  the  written  sermon,  but  beyond  this 
trusts  entirely  to  extemporaneous  impulse.  It  need  not  be  added, 
that  a  man  of  his  quick  sensibility  and  rich  treasures  of  language, 
is  fluent  and  even  voluble  in  his  unpremeditated  addresses.  "  In  the 
power  of  composition  and  oratory,"  says  one  who  has  frequently 
heard  him,  "  Tholuck  stands  unequalled  in  Germany." 

It  has  already  been  remarked,  that  our  author's  faithfulness  of  ap- 
peal to  the  conscience  is  sometimes  offensive  to  his  hearers.  In 
general,  however,  his  preaching  is  by  no  means  unpopular.  "  The 
university  of  Halle,"  says  Prof.  Sears,  "  has  no  place  of  worship 
attached  to  it;  it  has,  however,  a  morning  service  once  in  two 
weeks,  in  one  of  the  principal  churches  in  the  city.  The  preacher, 
who  is  appointed  by  the  King  of  Prussia,  was  Prof.  Marks ;  but 
when  Dr.  Tholuck  came  to  Halle,  and  was  appointed  associate 
preacher,  he  drew  so  much  larger  audiences  than  Prof.  Marks,  that 
the  latter  resigned."  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  adaptedness 
of  Tholuck's  sermons  to  affect  an  American  audience,  they  certainly 
do  affect,  deeply  and  beneficially,  the  audiences  for  which  they  are 
intended.1    The  critic,  before  he  pass  sentence  upon  their  general 

1  The  following  extract  from  the  review  of  Tholuck's  sermons  by  J. 
Mailer  in  the  Stud,  und  Krit.  Vol.  VIII.  pp.  '239,  240,  will  show  the  esti- 
mation in  which  his  sermons  are  held  by  many  of  his  own  countrymen. 

M  Everything  presents  itself  to  the  mind  of  Prof.  Tholuck  in  large  outline. 
It  is  foreign  from  his  cast  of  mind  to  analyze  any  subject  minutely,  so  as  to 
exhibit  all  its  elements  ;  to  cjefine  any  doctrine  with  precision  in  all  its  rela- 
tions. There  are  always,  if  1  may  so  express  myself,  great  masses,  which 
he  sets  in  motion  so  as  best  to  promote  his  own  design.  The  happiness  of 
heaven,  and  the  pain  of  perdition,  the  struggles  of  our  life  on  earth,  the 
forebodings  and  dreams  of  childhood,  the  emptiness  and  misery  of  later 
years  that  are  passed  without  religion,  the  terrors  of  the  hour  of  death,  and 
the  ecstasies  of  the  hour  when  we  are  born  into  a  new  life;  these  dissimilar 
topics  he  brings  together,  with  a  strong  hand,  so  as  to  form  one  picture, 
the  central  figure  of  which  is  the  sacred  form  of  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  he 
penetrates  with  these  themes  into  the  inmost] recesses  of  the  heart,  now  pro- 
ducing in  it  the  deepest  pain,  and  now  raising  it  to  the  highest  joy.  For  the 
feeling  of  grief  at  the  power  of  sin,  of  longing  after  the  unknown  God  and 
Redeemer,  of  joy  at  the  possession  of  his  grace,  of  desire  to  possess  it  in  its 
highest  degree,  of  silent  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  for  all  such  feeling 
he  has  the  liveliest,  the  most  pathetic,  the  tenderest  expressions.  Bold  and 
brilliant  images  are  always  at  his  command.    Not  only  does  the  Holy  Bible 

29 


226 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THOLUCK. 


character,  should  summon  up,  in  ideal  presence,  not  a  New  Eng- 
land auditory,  nor  a  Scottish,  but  a  German.  He  should  attend  to 
the  impressive  and  venerable  rites  with  which  the  delivery  of  the 
sermons  was  accompanied,  to  the  music  from  thrilling  and  deep- 
toned  instruments,  from  the  powerful  choir  of  men,  and  the  still 
more  affecting  one  of  boys.1  The  best  comment,  however,  that  can 
be  made  on  the  preaching  of  Dr.  Tholuck  is  this  ;  it  is  often  instru- 
mental, through  the  divine  blessing,  in  effecting  that  radical  trans- 
foi  mation  of  character,  without  which  no  man  can  see  the  Lord. 

open  to  him  its  treasure-chambers,  but  the  sages  of  Greece,  the  ancient  and 
modern  teachers  of  the  church,  the  christian  lyric  poets  present  him  their 
most  beautiful  flowers,  and  lay  at  his  feet  the  most  apposite  expressions.  Nor 
are  allusions  to  unsanctified  poets  rejected  from  his  sermons,  but  the  world, 
willing  or  unwilling,  is  made  serviceable  to  the  sacred  orator.  There  is 
given  to  Dr.  Tholuck  the  power  of  enchantment  over  mind.  His  discourses 
possess,  in  a  degree  altogether  peculiar,  everything  which  secures  the  most 
powerful,  immediate  impression  upon  the  hearers.  We  can  very  easily 
imagine  how  often  a  student,  having  never  before  listened  to  an  animated 
discourse,  which  penetrated  into  the  inmost  soul,  and  who  has  therefore 
gradually  accustomed  himself  to  look  upon  a  certain  kind  of  dullness  and 
tediousness  as  belonging  to  the  very  essence  of  a  sermon,  and  constituting 
its  edifying  quality,  when  he  has  once  strayed  into  Dr.  Tholuck's  church, 
would  hang  with  fixed  eye  upon  the  lips  of  the  preacher,  and  be  con- 
founded at  the  new  and  wonderful  power  of  language  with  which  he  was 
addressed." 

1  The  following  is  a  condensed  description  of  the  rites,  more  impressive 
probably  upon  Germans  than  they  would  be  upon  us,  which  were  connected 
with  the  delivery  of  the  fourth  sermon  in  this  Volume.  '  We  sat,'  says 
Prof.  Sears,  "  directly  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  and  when  the  congregation 
paused,  we  could  just  hear,  at  the  altar  at  our  extreme  left,  the  accents  of 
the  preacher  uttering  the  Lord's  prayer  ;  then  suddenly  voices  of  melody 
broke  upon  our  ear  from  the  orchestra  in  the  gallery  of  the  opposite  ex- 
treme of  the  house.  The  preacher  and  the  choir  were  facing  each  other, 
and  responding  ;  while  the  whole  congregation,  standing,  occupied  the  vast 
space  between.— During  the  responses  the  organ  was  silent.  Then  follow- 
ed that  which  is  called  '  the  chief  song,'  in  which  everything,  that  could 
utter  a  sound,  united.  Jn  these  shouts  of  the  multitude,  and  tumultuous 
clangor  of  the  instruments,  which  appear  like  an  attempt  to  carry  the  heart 
by  storm,  there  is,  in  my  opinion,  something  too  gross  and  physical  to  have 
the  happiest  effect.  Before  the  hymn  was  concluded,  the  preacher  was 
standing  in  the  pulpit  in  true  German  style,  in  a  fixed  posture,  with  his 
hands  clasped  before  his  breast,  and  his  eyes  turned  upward,"  etc. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 

BY 

DR.  L.  J.  RUCKERT. 


THE  DOCTRINE 

OF  THE 

RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 

A  COMMENTARY  ON  THE  FIFTEENTH  CHAPTER  OF  THE  FIRST  EPISTLE 
TO  THE  CORINTHIANS.1 


This  chapter  includes  the  last  principal  section  of  the  Epistle,  the 
defence  and  development  of  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  against 
certain  deniers  of  it  in  Corinth.  Who  these  were  and  what  it  was 
particularly  which  they  denied  will  be  a  theme  for  inquiry  at  the 
appropriate  place.  The  importance  of  this  section  is  generally  ac- 
knowledged, as  it  contributes  the  greater  part  of  what  we  know 
respecting  the  form,  in  which  the  doctrine  had  developed  itself  in  the 
mind  of  our  apostle.  A  high  value  he  evidently  attached  to  it. 
Accordingly  he  handles  it  with  much  fulness,  and,  as  we  shall  per- 
ceive, very  systematically.  Hence  also  the  special  introduction 
which  precedes  the  consideration  of  it. 

Chap,  XV.  v.  1,2.  I  now  call  your  attention,  brethren,  to  the  Gos- 
pel which  I  preached  unto  you,  which  ye  received,  and  by  which  ye 
stand,  by  which  also  ye  shall  be  saved,  if  ye  hold  fast  the  word 
which  I  declared  unto  you,  unless  ye  have  believed  in  vain. 

The  construction  demanded  by  Heydenreich  and  Billroth,2  makes 
so  harsh  an  inversion  of  the  passage,  that  on  no  account  can  we 

1  See  Note  A,  at  the  close  of  the  Article. 

s  Namely,  yvcjQi^to  lutv  zivt  ?.6ya>  aji\yyt?.iOuuriv  vutv  to  (vayysXiov  b  evyyyil- 
iOauip>  vutv  b  xal  y..r.l.  1 1  call  to  your  remembrance  with  what  discourse  (or 
what  was  the  nature  of  the  Gospel  which)  I  preached,'  etc. 


230 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


adopt  it.  Billroth  remarks  indeed,  that  the  meaning  of  the  first 
verses  will  be  wholly  disfigured  by  the  common  and  obvious  mode 
of  construction.  It  may  be  shown,  however,  that  this  is  not 
the  case.  We  accordingly  connect  together  the  words  '  I  now 
call  your  attention  to  the  Gospel,'  etc.1  The  usual  meaning  of 
/vwo/£w  is  '  to  make  known.'  But  Paul  could  not  have  now,  for  the 
first  time,  imparted  to  them  the  knowledge  of  that  with  which  they 
had  been  long  acquainted,  and  hence  the  common  explanation  of  the 
verb  4  to  remind,'  4  to  call  to  remembrance.'  Since,  however,  it 
neither  has  nor  can  have  this  meaning,  while  Paul  elsewhere 
makes  use  of  the  phrase  in  transitions  as  synonymous  with  the  ex- 
pression, '  I  do  not  wish  to  have  you  ignorant,'2  I  choose  instead 
of  attaching  to  it  a  new  signification,  rather  to  acquiesce  in  the 
mere  general  sense, 4 1  call  your  attention  to.'  The  Gospel  which 
he  had  preached  to  them,  as  explained  by  himself  in  the  third  and 
subsequent  verses,  was  the  knowledge  of  the  death  and  resurrec- 
tion of  Christ.  To  what  the  Gospel  thus  contained,  namely, 
to  the  fact  that  the  Gospel  which  they  had  heard  and  received 
related  to  the  death  and  resurrection  of  Jesus,  he  now  invites 
their  attention,  in  order  that  they  might  remember  that  to  this, 
with  all  its  consequences,  including  the  doctrine  of  a  general  res- 
urrection, they  must  either  adhere,  or  else  cease  to  be  Christians  ; 
because,  as  he  maintained,  the  denial  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead  would  result  in  a  denial  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  and  of  the 
redemption  accomplished  by  him.  He  now  makes  the  preliminary 
remark,  that  they  would  not  renounce  the  name  of  Christians, 
they  would  not  abjure  the  Gospel.  Therefore  he  hopes  that  the 
more  he  could  impress  upon  their  hearts  the  relation  in  which 
they  stood  to  the  Gospel,  the  more  certainly  he  should  attain  his 
object.  This  appears  in  the  subsequent  position,  namely,  4  which 
ye  have  received.'3  The  addition  is  important.  He  had  not  only 
announced  the  truth,  but  they  had  received  it  thus  ;  they  had  ac- 
knowledged it  as  true.  They  would  not  now  resort  to  the  subterfuge 
of  pretending  that  they  had  not  understood  it,  or  that  they  had  not 
originally  believed  it.   4  In  which  ye  also  stand.' — He  now  advances 

1  yvvw'itu)  vuiv  to  tvuyy.  x.T.?.. 

2  In  which  case  we  are  not  to  press  the  meaning  of  particular  words  too 
closely. 

3  The  verb  has  a  like  meaning  in  John  1:  11,  '  his  own  received  him  not.' 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


231 


a  step  higher.  The  Corinthians  had  not  merely  heard  the  Gospel ; 
they  had  not  simply  received  it ;  they  also  stood  in  it,  that  is,  they 
adhered  firmly  to  a  belief  of  it ;  they  were  still  Christians  ;  they  had 
not  yet  rejected  the  Gospel.1  The  remark  is  not  intended  to  natter 
or  delude  them,  because  all  to  whom  he  wrote,  firmly  believed  the 
doctrine  that  Christ  died  and  rose  again.  Otherwise,  he  could  by  no 
means  have  built  an  argument  upon  it,  as  he  has  done  in  verses  13, 
16,  20.  All,  however,  had  not  drawn  the  same  conclusion  in  res- 
pect to  a  resurrection  strictly  considered  as  he  had.  But  this  con- 
sequently was  to  be  believed,  and  he  employs  it  in  order  to  lay  as 
firm  a  foundation  as  possible  for  his  subsequent  reasoning.  '  By  which 
also  ye  are  saved.'  This  is  the  highest  point  in  the  climax.  Thereby 
they  obtain  salvation.2  The  apostle  now  subjoins  a  condition  in  the 
words  'if  ye  hold  fast  the  declaration  which  I  made  known  to  you.'3 
If  we  take  these  words  together,  as  most  preceding  commentators 
have  done,  we  must  recognize  a  transposition,  by  which  the  object  is 
placed  before  the  verb,  a  circumstance  not  by  any  means  impossible.'4 
The  word  y.uizyaiv  means'  to  hold  fast.'5  An  indirect  question  being 
implied,  this  firm  adherence  must  relate  rather  to  the  memory  than 
to  the  convictions  of  the  mind.  The  apostle  cannot,  however,  be  nat- 
urally supposed  to  make  any  wide  distinction.  Rather  a  certain 
fulness  of  meaning  is  to  be  attached  to  the  verb,  including  both  a 
remembrance  of  what  had  been  delivered  to  them,  and  a  true,  in- 
ward adherence  to  the  object  of  their  recollection.  He  uses  el  and 
not  lav  because  he  does  not  intend  to  represent  the  thing  as  pro- 
blematical and  possible,  but  as  certain  and  real.  We  rightly  translate 
%ivt  loyix)  '  in  which  discourse  or  declaration,'  not '  in  which  word  ;' 

1  It  is  clear  that  the  Perfect  tense  does  not  point,  as  some  think,  to  a  past 
time. 

2  Many  suppose,  but  not  correctly,  that  the  Present  tense  is  here  used  for 
the  future.  This  would  be  the  case  only  when  aot&jjvai  pointed  to  nothing 
but  to  the  attainment  of  future  eternal  happiness.  But  as  it  is  an  expression 
for  salvation,  as  a  whole,  and  while  this  relates  to  a  continued  process,  as 
well  to  what  has  been  already  gained  as  to  what  is  to  be  yet  hoped  for, 
so,  according  as  the  thing  is  presented  in  each  particular  instance,  the 
Present  tense  may  be  as  appropriately  employed,  as  the  Perfect  inEph.2:5b, 
or  the  AoristinRom.8:24. 

3  Tin  ).oy<>>-y.uTt ytTh. 

4  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  connect  these  words  with  yrwnitw  v.  1,  then 
xajt/tit  would  stand  by  itself,  to  which  Paul  would  have  certainly  added 
avxo.  5  1  Cor.  11:2, 


232 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


or,  if  we  take  the  Dative  in  a  causal  sense,  '  on  account  of  which 
declaration,1  that  is, 4  on  which  ground  or  reason.'  The  words  have 
the  latter  signification  in  Acts  10:  29,  and  thus  Kypke  interprets 
them  here.  But  this  is  impossible,  because  there  is  no  reference  to 
the  ground  or  reason  which  had  induced  the  apostle  to  announce  his 
message.  We  are  to  understand  here  the  theme  of  his  preaching, 
thus  'if  ye  possess  and  hold  fast  what  I  announced  unto  you  as  the 
Gospel.'  To  this  adherence  to  the  word  preached,  and  indeed  to  all 
included  under  it,  they  must  stand  firm.  There  was  to  be  no  nar- 
rowing down  or  mutilation,  which  some  individuals  endeavored  to 
effect.  In  these  circumstances,  when  he  felt  constrained  to  awaken 
their  attention,  it  was  very  proper  to  assure  them  that  they  could 
not  attain  the  salvation,  which  he  had  declared  to  them  as  the  fruit 
of  the  Gospel,  and  which  unquestionably  they  still  expected  to  enjoy, 
if  they  did  not  comply  with  this  condition.  I  therefore  see  no  reason 
at  all,  why  this  interpretation  of  the  words  should  disfigure  the 
thought. — '  Unless  ye  have  believed  in  vain.1  The  meaning  of 
tlxy  is  4  rashly,'  '  without  ground.'  The  entire  point  will  be  eluci- 
dated in  the  course  of  the  subsequent  reasoning,  where  the  apostle 
shows  that  if  there  be  no  resurrection  of  the  dead,  then  preaching 
and  faith  are  vain,  and  salvation  is  impossible.2  Looking  forward  to 
this  position,  he  here  subjoins  a  remark  entirely  incidental  but  not 
without  severity,  and  which  stands  in  connection  with  the  clause  '  by 
which  ye  shall  be  saved,  if  ye  hold  fast,'  etc.  '  In  attaining  salvation 
through  the  Gospel,  it  is  an  implied  point  that  you  remain  true  to 
whatever  it  contains.'  As  if  recollecting  himself,  and  intending  to 
explain  what  he  had  before  said,  he  adds,  in  an  ironical  manner, 
4  It  would  be  somewhat  thus, — ye  would  have  believed  without  good 
reason,  if  they  are  in  the  right,  who  by  subverting  the  belief  in  a 
resurrection,  would  make  the  whole  Gospel  a  fable.' 

V.  3,  4.  For  I  delivered  to  you  among  the  first  what  I  even  re- 
ceived, that  Christ  died  for  our  sins  according  to  the  Scriptures,  and 
that  he  was  buried,  and  that  he  rose  again  on  the  third  day,  accord- 
ing to  the  Scriptures. 

1  The  pleonasm  lying  in  h/.roq  ei  tult  has  been  remarked  upon  in  1  Cor.  14: 
5.  In  respect  to  the  present  passage,  Kypke  has  collected  ten  like  instances 
from  Lucian. 

2  Comp.  verses  14,  17,  seq. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


233 


These  verses  contain  a  summary  of  the  contents  of  the  Gospel 
which  had  been  preached  to  the  Corinthians.  4 1  delivered  what  I 
received.'  He  had  received  the  historical  fact  perhaps  only  by  tra- 
dition, while  the  import  of  it  was  indeed  '  by  the  revelation  of 
Jesus  Christ.1  What  had  been  entrusted  to  him,  he  communi- 
cated to  them,  and  that  too  '  among  the  first.'2  If  Tigatoig  is  in 
the  neuter  gender,  the  phrase  shows  that  the  death  and  resur- 
rection of  Jesus  was  one  of  the  first  topics  which  he  communi- 
cated to  them.  Accordingly  it  would  seem  to  follow,  that  he  con- 
sidered it  as  the  most  important  doctrine,  the  fundamental  principle 
of  the  whole  Christian  system.  On  this  supposition,  the  difficulty 
which  I  have  experienced  entirely  disappears,3  and  it  is  remarkable 
that  in  my  manifold  consideration  of  the  passage,  this  signification 
of  it  did  not  occur  to  me.  I  will  not  pronounce  it  a  false  exposition, 
but  yet  it  ill  accords  with  my  feelings.4  Paul  does  not  delay  long 
in  mentioning  the  death  of  Christ.  It  was  enough  here  to  indicate  it 
as  having  happened,  though  he  subjoins,  without  explanation,  two 
qualifying  clauses.  First,  4  he  died  for  our  sins.'  This  he  deemed 
necessary,  because  he  had  awakened  in  them  the  feeling  that  they 
were  no  longer  in  their  sins,  verses  4,  17.  Secondly,  it  was  1  ac- 
cording to  the  Scriptures,'  that  is,  it  was  in  close  correspondence 
with,  and  a  fulfilment  of  the  predictions  which  the  Old  Testament 
contained  respecting  the  death  of  Christ.  It  is  well  known  how 
often  in  the  Gospels,  Christ  referred  to  the  fact  that  the  Scriptures 
would  be  only  fulfilled  by  his  sufferings  and  death.  That  there 
must  have  been  many  indications  of  this  sort  is  clear.5  Paul,  as  we 
see,  does  not  name  the  passage  to  which  he  refers.  One  naturally 
thinks  of  the  fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah.  The  assertion  might  have 
appeared  important  to  the  apostle  in  so  far  as  it  was  a  testimony, 
not  to  the  event  itself  which  was  undoubted,  but  to  the  impoaance  of 
it,  since  an  antecedent  announcement  had  been  made  in  the  writings 

1  Gal.  I:  12. 

2  Chrysostom  explains  n  nodroic  of  time,  i  at  first,'  '  in  the  beginning,' 

tc  &Q%>j      or  rvr. 

3  See  Note  B,  at  the  end  of  this  Article. 

4  Partly  on  the  ground  of  the  proximity  of  the  word  {uiv,  and  partly,  as  it 
appears  to  me,  if  this  sense  had  been  intended,  it  would  have  been  written 
jovto  nocovov. 

5  Luke  24:  25  -27. 

30 


234 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


of  the  Old  Testament  which  were  regarded  as  sacred.  The  men- 
tion of  the  burial  of  Jesus  may  have  been  intended  to  show  that  he 
actually  died,  and  to  remove  the  cavil  that  possibly  he  was  not  truly 
dead,  and  so  could  not  have  been  raised  to  life,  but  was  resuscitated 
from  a  condition  resembling  death.  Everything,  however,  which 
befals  the  literally  dead  had  befallen  him.  His  body  was  laid  in  the 
tomb,  and  was  there  confined  three  days.  Finally  his  resurrection 
was  according  to  the  Scriptures.1 

V.  5 — 7.  And  that  he  appeared  toCephas,  then  to  the  twelve,  then 
he  appeared  to  above  five  hundred  brethren  at  once,  of  whom  the 
greater  part  remain  to  this  present  time,  though  some  are  fallen 
asleep ;  then  he  appeared  to  James,  then  to  all  the  apostles. 

A  confirmation  of  the  fact  from  the  instances  of  his  appearance 
after  he  arose.  Here  is  not  the  place  to  institute  a  strict  compari- 
son of  the  occurrences  which  in  this  passage  are  barely  mentioned 
with  those  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  or  to  investigate  how  far  they  do, 
or  do  not,  harmonize.  A  few  words  must  suffice.  4  He  was  seen 
of  Cephas.'  This  is  nowhere  else  mentioned,  with  the  exception  of 
Luke  24:  34,  and  there  only  in  a  word.  4  Then  of  the  twelve.' 
From  the  use  of  the  adverb  '  then,'  it  might  seem  that  the  appear- 
ances are  named  in  the  order  of  time,  so  far  as  Paul  was  made  ac- 
quainted with  it.  But  how  perfectly  such  knowledge  was  possessed 
by  him,  or  whether  it  was  actually  possessed  by  any  other  one,  can 
never  be  determined.  The  mention  of  the  '  twelve'  has  occasioned 
some  attempts  to  introduce  Matthias.  It  has  been  long  acknow- 
ledged, however,  that  the  apostles  are  here  alone  referred  to,  though 
but  eleven  in  number :  or  but  ten  if  there  be  an  allusion  to  the  narra- 
tive in  John  20:  19,  23.  They  are  called  '  the  twelve'  with  the 
same  propriety  as  the  terms  decemviri,  centumviri  are  employed,  or 
as  Xenophon  mentions  4  the  thirty'  after  the  death  of  Critias.  It  is, 
in  a  sense,  the  title  of  their  office.  4  Of  above  five  hundred  brethren 
at  once.'  The  adverb  4  above'  is  equivalent  to  4  more  than'  as  used 
in  Mark  14:  5.2    4  Brethren,'  means  the  same  with  4  disciples'3  as 

1  He  might  have  referred  to  Ps.  16:  10.  Is.  53:  10. 

2  See  Inavoi  Mark  14:  5.  The  construction  in  which  a  case  connected  with 
a  verb  stands  instead  of  a  Genitive  which  should  be  used  is  common  in  Latin 
numerals.  In  Greek,  definite  examples  of  it  are  wanting.  Those  men- 
tioned in  Matthiae  Sect.  455.  4.  are  insufficient.  3  /m^i/rctt. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


235 


used  by  the  evangelists  in  the  wider  sense.  In  respect  to  the 
event  here  mentioned  it  cannot  be  determined  whether  it  is  one 
which  we  find  in  the  evangelists.  Matt.  28:  16  has  been  suggested, 
but  there  the  eleven  only  are  named,  while  the  concluding  clause  in 
verse  17, 4  some  doubted,'  leaves  us  uncertain  in  respect  to  the  pres- 
ence of  others.  Against  Heumann's  conjecture  that  the  assembling 
at  the  time  of  the  ascension  is  meant,1  it  may  be  said  that  the  num- 
ber, '  one  hundred  and  twenty,'2  is  less  opposed  inasmuch  as  there 
may  have  been  a  greater  number  on  the  Mount  of  Olives  than  had 
subsequently  remained  together  in  Jerusalem,  than  the  circum- 
stance that  Paul  names  two  subsequent  appearances,  if  we  sup- 
pose that  he  follows  the  order  of  time.  The  additional  remark 
that  the  larger  part  of  the  five  hundred  still  lived,  some  only  having 
fallen  asleep,  appears  to  have  been  designed  to  exhibit  them  as 
witnesses  whose  testimony  might  still  be  examined.  An  appearance 
made  particularly  to  a  James  alone  is  not  elsewhere  mentioned  in 
our  authorities.3  That  James  the  brother  of  the  Lord  is  meant  can 
be  regarded  as  probable,  since  at  that  time  he  was  in  high  esteem, 
while  the  brother  of  John  was  not  then  living.  Heumann's  notion 
that  Thomas  is  to  be  understood  is  unworthy  of  notice.  Equally 
ignorant  are  we  in  respect  to  the  last  appearance, '  to  all  the  apos- 
tles.' Some  have  referred  to  John  20:  16  when  Thomas  was  present, 
he  having  been  absent  on  a  previous  occasion.  Others  take  the 
word  '  apostles'  in  a  wider  sense.  But  the  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter  is  that  we  know  nothing  about  it. 

V.  8,  9.  And  last  of  all  he  appeared  to  me  also,  as  one  born  out 
of  due  time,  for  I  am  the  least  of  the  apostles,  and  am  not  worthy  to 
be  called  an  apostle,  because  I  persecuted  the  church  of  God. 

Finally  Paul  names  himself  as  among  those  to  whom  the  risen 
Saviour  had  appeared.    We  inquire  when  and  at  what  place  ?  On 


1  Luke  24:  50.  Acts  1:  6  seq.  2  Acts  h  15. 

3  What  Jerome  narrates  in  his  Catal.  Script.  Eccl.,  from  the  Apocryphal 
Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews,  has  perhaps  as  little  credibility  as  it  has 
harmony  with  the  order  of  time.  [The  appearance  to  James  is  mentioned 
by  this  Apocryphal  writer  as  occurring  immediately  after  the  resurrec- 
tion.— Tr.] 


236 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


the  road  to  Damascus,  is  the  usual  reply.  But  it  has  been  already 
shown  that  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  Paul  actually  saw  the  Sa- 
viour on  that  occasion.1  If  he  did  not,  then  we  must  here  resort  to 
a  later  vision.  In  reality  this  does  not  alter  the  case,  for  the  appearance 
on  that  journey  can  be  well  explained  only  as  an  internal  one,  to  the 
mind  ;  and  what  is  of  essential  importance,  such  a  manifestation  would 
not  prove  the  resurrection  of  Jesus.  If  it  proved  any  thing,  it  would 
prove  only  his  existence,  but  it  would  not  show  his  previous  return  to 
life  in  a  corporeal  resurrection.  Both  ideas  were,  however,  closely 
united  in  the  mind  of  Paul.  He  could  think  of  a  living  Christ  only 
as  one  who  had  risen,  and  so  of  one  not  risen  only  as  one  dead ;  at 
least,  his  course  of  argument  in  the  thirteenth  and  the  following 
verses  rests  on  this  ground.  If  thus  the  life  of  the  Lord  was  made 
certain  to  him  by  what  had  happened,  so  also  was  his  resurrection. 
The  mention  of  the  fact  that  he  also  had  seen  the  Lord  leads  him  to 
express  a  very  humble  opinion  of  himself.  This  must  have  been 
the  genuine  out-flowing  of  his  inward  feelings  ;  the  more  so,  as  there 
was  no  external  inducement  for  such  an  expression.  We  then  learn 
from  him  the  ground  of  these  feelings — grief  for  his  early  persecu- 
tion of  the  church  of  Christ — grief,  as  it  should  seem,  which  did  not 
leave  him  while  he  lived,  its  sting  ever  more  active  within  him, 
stimulating  him  to  the  most  indefatigable  efforts  for  the  cause  against 
which  he  had  once  turned  the  whole  force  of  his  powerful  will. 
This  expression,  that  Jesus  had  appeared  to  him  last  of  all,  springs 
from  his  emotions,  while  he  still  subjoins,  4  as  to  one  born  out 
of  due  time.'2  That  the  noun  means  nothing  else  than  a  prema- 
ture birth  is  shown  so  incontrovertibly  by  Wetstein  in  a  multitude  of 
instances  adduced  from  physicians,  grammarians  and  other  writers, 
that  we  may  fully  coincide  with  Fritzsche3  in  his  refutation  of  the 
exposition  of  Schultess,4  provided  even  that  this  exposition  strongly 
commended  itself  on  other  grounds,  which  is  by  no  means  the  case. 
From  the  earliest  times  downward,  unspeakable  pains  have  been 
taken  in  order  to  determine  the  sense  in  which  Paul  could  say  that 

1  See  Note  C,  at  the  end  of  this  Article.      2  djoirtQit  rw  ixr^ajjuari. 

3  De  Nonnullis  Post.  Pauli  ad  Corinthios  Epistolae  Locis.  Dissertatio  I. 
Lips.  1823,  p.  6  seq. 

4  First  published  in  a  Review  of  Kumoel's  Comment,  on  N.  T.  in  the  N. 
Theol.  Annalen  ;  then  in  opposition  to  Emmerlung*s  Bemerkungen  in  Kiel 
and  Tzschirner's  Analekten  1.  St.  2,  and  as  a  Defence  of  the  same  St.  4,  212. 


Km 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


237 


he  '  was  bom  out  of  due  time*1  Here  also  I  must  agree  with 
Fritzsche,  that  we  are  not  to  seek  for  an  explanation  by  a  special 
search  over  the  wide  regions  of  possibility,1  but  we  are  to  look 
simply  and  only  at  the  apostle's  own  words  in  verse  ninth.  A  prema- 
ture birth,  (for  he  could  not  have  understood  the  word  of  a  monstrous, 
misshapen  birth),  is  feeble,  imperfectly  formed,  rarely  able  to  live. 
Thus  Paul  calls  himself  a  premature  birth,  being  as  unworthy  of  the 
high  name  of  an  apostle,  as  a  premature  birth  is  of  the  name  of  a 
man  ;  as  little  fitted  for  the  duties  of  an  apostle  as  that  is  for  a  nat- 
ural life  in  the  world.2  The  phrase  is  softened  by  prefixing  '  as  it 
were,'  '  just  as  if,'3  and  accordingly  the  whole  verse  runs  thus, 
■  Last  of  all  he  appeared  to  me  also,  who  am  among  them,  as  it  were, 
a  premature  birth,  the  poorest  and  most  unworthy  of  all.'  Verse  9 
contains  the  explanation,  1  For  I  am  the  least  of  the  apostles,  who 
am  not  worthy  to  be  called  an  apostle,  because  I  persecuted  the 
church  of  God.'  ' 1  am  the  least  of  the  apostles,'  as  in  Eph.  3:  8,  he 
declares  that  he  is  'least  of  all  saints,'  and  on  this  account,  (for 
this  appears  to  be  the  connection  expressed  by  the  relative 
4  who'),  'lam,  (properly  speaking),  unworthy4  to  be  called  an 
apostle.'  It  is  by  no  means  necessary  to  give  the  verb  '  to  be  called,'5 
another  sense  as  is  done  by  Heydenreich  and  Flatt.  The  ground  of 
his  unworthiness  is  his  former  persecution  of  the  church  of  God. 

V.  10.  But  by  the  grace  of  God  I  am  what  I  am,  and  his  grace 
which  was  in  me  was  not  in  vain,  for  I  labored  more  abundantly 
than  they  all ;  yet  not  I,  but  the  grace  of  God  which  was  with  me. 

1  Dam  de  vocabulo  exrQoma  ad  P.  consilium  connivent. 

2  Paul  writes  to  tzTQwiia,  not  Bxr^uua  ti,  which  indeed  he  might  have  done, 
and  it  would  have  contributed  to  soften  the  harshness  of  the  expression ; 
but,  he  was  neither  compelled  to  do  this,  as  he  wished  to  compare  himself 
with  the  other  apostles,  he  being  among  them  1  the  premature  one,'  that  is, 
the  feeblest  and  weakest  of  them  all ;  nor,  could  it  have  been  expressed  by 
using  T(a  in  the  sense  of  nw,  a  form  which  is  altogether  foreign  to  the 
dialect.  It  is  foreign  to  it,  for  there  are  retained  in  1  Thess.  4:  6,  iv  tw 
nqdyixaTt.   '  In  anything,'  there  means  iv  fir^svl  ttq. 

3  ojottcqsI.    See  Longinus  tt,  vip.  in  Wetstein. 

4  The  word  utavdg  is  equivalent  to  agios  Matt.  3:  11,  Luke  3:  16.  It  is 
used  for  agio?  John  1:  17. 

5  xahlo&at, 


238 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


So  deep  was  this  feeling  of  his  great  unworthiness,  while  so  pro- 
found also  was  his  consciousness  of  the  labors  which  he  had  per- 
formed since  the  grace  of  God  had  called  him  to  the  apostleship, 
notwithstanding  his  unworthiness,  that  he  cannot  permit  it  to  pass 
unnoticed.  It  would  thus  augment  the  glory  of  Him  who  had  given 
him  strength  to  labor.  4  Through  the  grace  of  God  he  is  what  he  is,'1 
and  indeed2  his  grace,  which  he  hath  manifested  in  him,3  was  not  in 
vain,  for  he  labored  more  than  they  all ;  yet,  it  was  not  he  but  the 
grace  of  God  which  was  with  him,'  that  is,  which  accompanied  him 
and  sustained  his  labors.4 

V.  1 1 .  Whether,  therefore,  I,  or  they,  so  we  preach  and  so  ye 
believed. 

This  concludes  what  is  preliminary  to  the  main  discussion,  namely, 
that  the  message  respecting  the  death  and  resurrection  of  Christ  was 
taught  unanimously  by  all  the  apostles,  and  was  by  them  received  as 
the  foundation  of  their  faith.  '  So  ye  believed.1  Thus  ye  put 
confidence  in  it ;  that  is,  in  this  message  ye  received  Christianity. 
■  Believed'  is  used  in  the  same  sense  here,  as  in  Rom.  13:  11  and 
elsewhere. 

V.  12.  Now  if  Christ  be  preached  that  he  is  raised  from  the  dead, 
how  say  some  among  you  that  there  is  no  resurrection  of  the  dead  ?5 

He  now  passes  to  the  controversy  itself.  The  apostle  presupposes 
two  points  when  he  inquires,  how  it  was  possible,  that  while  Christ 
was  preached  as  if  raised  from  the  dead,  there  yet  should  be  some 
among  the  Corinthians  who  denied  the  general  resurrection.  First, 
no  one  disbelieved  the  resurrection  of  Christ.    That  there  were  such 

1  The  words  1 1  am,'  imply  more  than  if  he  had  said, '  1  am  an  apostle.'  It 
includes  not  only  his  apostolical  office,  but  his  fitness  and  his  labors  devoted 
to  a  fulfilment  of  the  duties  of  that  office. 

2  1  Indeed,'  this  is  the  force  of  xai  in  this  place. 

3  The  phrase  rj  tig  tfii  is  the  same  as  ?/v  tvdtliard  iv  Ifioi '  which  he  has 
made  operative  in  respect  to  me.' 

4  gvv  sfioi-fj  ovvsgyovod  fioi. 

5  On  the  passage  v.  12 — 19,  comp.  a  Dissertation  of  Knapp  in  his  Opus- 
culis  varii  Argumenti,  Fasc.  I.  299. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


239 


persons  whether  Jews  or  Gentiles  is  not  at  all  probable.  It  is  in- 
deed inconceivable  that  any  man  could  be  then  found,  who  would 
acknowledge  a  crucified  but  not  a  risen  Messiah  as  the  Lord,  and 
the  author  of  salvation  to  man.  The  other  presupposition  is,  that 
a  belief  in  the  resurrection  of  Christ  and  a  denial  of  the  general 
resurrection  involved  a  contradiction,  for  such  a  contradiction  is 
indicated  by  the  relation  between  the  first  and  second  members,  and 
by  the  interrogative  nojg  1  how.'1  But  in  order  to  a  correct  estimate 
of  his  confutation — for  his  exhibition  is  to  be  viewed  in  such  a  light 
rather  than  as  a  direct  proof  of  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection — it 
will  be  indispensable  that  we  inquire,  in  the  first  place,  who  denied 
the  doctrine,  and  secondly  what  were  the  points,  particularly,  which 
they  denied.  If  we  could  establish  one  of  these  two  points  with 
any  certainty,  then  we  might  arrive  at  a  tolerably  safe  conclusion 
in  respect  to  the  other.  But  since  Paul  has  given  no  definite  in- 
formation in  respect  to  the  two  points,  nowhere  intimating  who 
were  the  deniers,  or  what  was  the  nature  of  their  skepticism, 
while  his  refutation  is  so  constructed,  that  one  point  perhaps  ex- 
cepted, we  can  determine  with  certainty  nothing  relating  to  it, 
we  are  thus  compelled  to  remain  without  any  full  or  explicit  in- 
formation in  respect  to  either  of  the  topics.  That  we  may,  however, 
ascertain  what  is  practicable,  we  will  inquire  what  these  deniers  of 
the  resurrection  rejected.  In  what  way  did  they  refuse  credence  to 
it?  Did  they  reject  the  personal,  continued  existence  of  the  soul 
after  death  ?  Such  must  be  the  ground  which  those  assume  who 
think  that  they  have  detected  Sadducees  or  Epicureans  in  the 
persons  in  question.2  They  rest  their  opinion  on  verses  18  seq.,  29, 
33.  Those  who  discover  traces  of  Epicureanism  refer  particularly 
to  verse  32.  I  must,  however,  oppose  all  conjectures  of  this  sort. 
The  argument  against  it,  employed  by  Ziegler,3  namely,  that 
Paul,  if  he  had  been  contending  with  the  Sadducees,  would  have 
done  so  by  drawing  his  proofs  from  the  Scriptures,  is  certainly  too 
weak,  inasmuch  as  we  do  not  know  but  that  he  might  have  found 
reasons  which  would  apply  also  against  the  Sadducees ;  and  even  if 

1  See  Gal.  2:  14. 

2  Heumann,  Michaelis  Einl.  1229,  Storr  Opus.  Acad.  II.  333.,  Flatt, 
Knapp,  310.,  Bertholdt  Einl.  3329  seq. 

3Theol.  Eeitr.  11.36. 


240 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


the  scope  of  his  reasoning  were  appropriate  to  the  Sadducees,  this 
would  not  remove  the  conjecture  that  there  were  Epicurean  oppo- 
nents. But  what  is  decidedly  opposed  to  every  interpretation  of  the 
kind  is  the  fact,  that  those  to  whom  Paul  refers  believed  in  the  resur- 
rection of  Christ.  This  is  undeniable,  for  Paul  seizes  hold  of  this 
position  as  firmly  as  possible.  He  not  only  does  not  intimate  that  it 
was  doubted,  but  he  makes  it  the  basis  of  his  subsequent  course  of 
reasoning.  This  he  could  not  have  actually  done,  if  there  had  been 
any  place,  for  doubt.  Besides,  as  has  been  already  remarked,  neither 
the  Sadducees  nor  Epicureans  were  so  spiritually  inclined  that  they 
could  have  believed  in  a  Christ  who  had  not  risen  from  the  dead. 
We  may,  therefore,  conclude  that  they  [the  opponents]  were  not  of 
these  sects.  That  they  denied  the  doctrine  of  a  future  existence  is 
not  at  all  conceivable.  Christianity  offered  to  its  adherents  so  little 
that  was  joyful  in  this  present  life,  that  without  the  hope  which  it 
brings  with  it — and  this  Paulas  the  promulger  of  it  concealed  as  little 
in  his  sermons  as  in  his  letters — they  would  have  been  at  most  only 
men  possessing  an  elevated  natural  morality,  on  which  ground  cer- 
tainly such  multitudes  would  not  have  received  it  as  actually  did  re- 
ceive it.  Besides,  in  the  anticipated  approaching  coming  of  Christ  [then 
prevalent]  one  might  have  hoped  for  eternal  life  without  the  separating 
process  of  death.  That  life  must  have  been  at  all  events  expected, 
else  one  could  not  have  been  a  Christian.  The  reasoning  of  the  apos- 
tle may,  however,  seem  favorable  to  the  opinion  which  I  reject,  so  far 
as  he  actually  declares  that  he  has  to  do  with  those  who  denied  an  im- 
mortality.1 The  ground  of  this  opinion,  nevertheless,  lies  only  in 
the  fact  that  for  him  as  a  Jew  and  a  Pharisee,2  the  doctrines  of  the 
continued  existence  of  the  soul  and  of  the  resurrection  were  so 
mingled,  that  whoever  denied  the  one  could  not  firmly  adhere  to  the 
other,  and  therefore  Paul,  without  fully  knowing  what  was  maintain- 
ed or  denied  at  Corinth,  and  looking  at  the  whole  subject  from  his 
own  point  of  view,  supposed  that  he  might  treat  the  opposers  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  resurrection  as  opposers  of  a  belief  in  a  future  life.3 
In  regard  to  the  traces  of  an  Epicurean  sentiment,  which  some  per- 
sons imagine  that  they  find  in  verse  32,  we  must  remark  that  the 
passage  is  a  proof  of  the  contrary.    Paul  there  informs  his  readers 


1  Comp.  verses,  19,  29  seq.  2  Comp.  Knapp.  303. 

J  Neander  Geschich.  der  Pflan.  u  Leit.  d.  Chr.  Kirche,  I.  213. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


241 


that  a  denial  of  the  resurrection,  including  a  rejection  of  the  con- 
tinued, personal  existence  of  the  soul,  will  lead  to  nothing  as  a  con- 
sequence but  a  frivolous  mode  of  spending  this  present  life,  which 
he  there  describes,  in  order  that,  on  the  presupposition  that  they  re- 
jected such  a  view  of  life  as  much  as  he  did,  they  might  thus  be  con- 
vinced of  the  pernicious  nature  of  their  unbelief,  and  might  be  restored 
to  faith  in  the  true  doctrine.  At  any  rate  he  must  have  been  alto- 
gether ignorant  of  the  existence  of  such  an  Epicurean  sentiment, 
because,  otherwise,  he  could  not  have  applied  this  argument,  which 
would  have  been  wholly  useless. 

Accordingly  we  understand  at  least  so  much  as  this.  The  *  some'1 
in  Corinth  were  not  the  materialists  who  deny  all  personal  existence 
of  the  soul  beyond  the  grave  ;  but  they  were  those  who  contended 
only  against  the  form  in  which  the  hope  of  Christians  educated  in 
the  bosom  of  Judaism  had,  necessarily  from  its  origin,  clothed  itself, 
namely,  a  belief  in  the  resurrection  of  the  body  after  its  dissolution  by 
death.  Hence  certainly  it  follows  that  the  persons  to  whom  Paul 
refers  did  not  belong  to  the  Judaizing  party,  at  least,  that  they  were 
not  Jewish  Christians.  A  Jew,  who  believed  in  a  future  life,  believed 
also,  undoubtedly, — some  few  Hellenizing  Jews  perhaps  excepted — 
just  as  our  apostle  did.  Most  probably  he  had  his  eye  on  some  Gentile 
Christians.  But  what  occasioned  their  doubts,  whether  the  idea  of 
the  unfitness  of  earthly  materials  as  a  dwelling  for  the  spirit  in  a 
higher  stage  of  life,  or  the  inconceivableness  of  the  process  by  which 
a  new  body  is  erected  from  the  wasted  and  scattered  remnants  of 
the  old,  or  whether,  like  Neander,  we  feel  compelled  to  assume  that 
the  persons  in  question  were  philosophical  doubters, — to  these  ques- 
tions no  satisfactory  answer  can  be  given.  Supposing  that  Paul  did 
not  himself,  of  his  own  accord,  start  the  inquiry,  '  how  are  the  dead 
raised,'  verse  35,  and  put  it  into  the  mouth  of  an  opponent,  viewing 
it  as  one  of  the  difficulties  which  would  be  elsewhere  raised  against 
the  doctrine,  then  we  may  admit  it  as  a  proof,  that  the  inconceivable- 
ness of  the  event  was  one  of  the  reasons  at  least,  on  account  of 
whi ch  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  was  controverted  at  Corinth. 
But  here  also  we  have  no  certainty. 

We  now  proceed  to  examine  and  state  the  grounds  on  which  Paul 
argues  with  those  who  denied  his  doctrine.    As  the  meaning  of  the 

1  TU'fS  iv  Vftiv. 

31 


242 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


words  is  surprisingly  clear  in  the  whole  subsequent  discussion,  it 
will  be  the  main  business  of  the  interpreter  to  investigate  the  argu- 
ments which  the  writer  adduces  according  to  their  logical  value,  and 
according  to  this  alone.  He  must  here,  if  anywhere,  dismiss  his 
peculiar  philosophical  and  doctrinal  views,  and  endeavor  so  closely 
to  stand  in  the  position  of  the  historical  Paul,  that  wherever  possible 
he  may  see  all  the  principles  advanced  by  him  with  the  same  eyes 
with  which  he  did  ;  and  holding  up  before  himself  the  one  object  of 
inquiry  he  may  proceed  with  logical  exactness,  while  on  the  same 
grounds  also  he  seeks  to  refute  the  opinions  which  are  opposite. 
The  less  this  has  been  done  heretofore,  the  more  the  peculiar  doc- 
trinal view  has  everywhere  exerted  an  influence  on  the  interpretation 
of  this  chapter,  the  more  fully  shall  I  be  justified,  in  my  own  hand- 
ling of  the  subject,  in  omitting  to  refer  to  my  predecessors,  with 
whom  it  is  not  my  business  to  contend.  My  simple  object  is  to  show 
how  Paul  himself  thought,  and  to  exhibit  the  logical  connection  of 
his  arguments.1 

V.  13.  Now  if  there  be  no  resurrection  of  the  dead,  neither  is 
Christ  raised. 

Paul  having  already  said  that  a  belief  in  the  resurrection  of  Christ 
and  a  denial  of  the  resurrection  of  believers  involved  a  contradiction, 
he  proceeds  to  the  proof.2  4  Now  some  among  you  think  that  there 
is  no  resurrection,  but  if  there  be  no  resurrection,  then,'  etc.  The 
words  '  is  not,'3  have  the  same  propriety  as  in  ch.  7:  9,  9:  2,  11:  6, 
when  the  non-existence  of  the  resurrection  is  affirmed.  The  infer- 
ence follows,  f  If  there  be  no  resurrection  of  the  dead,  then  Christ  is 
not  raised.'    In  order  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  the  reasoning, 

1  The  more — with  regret  1  must  add — will  my  Commentary  displease  the 
doctrinal  exegetes.  1  see  this  beforehand,  but  I  cannot  change  my  course; 
1  cannot  be  faithless  to  my  principles  in  order  to  win  applause.  1  cannot 
allow  that  the  two  diverse  persons — the  interpreter  and  the  doctrinal  writer 
— can  be  merged  into  each  other.  No  good  ever  did  come  from  it,  nor  ever 
will. 

8  He  might  have  used  yuo  1  for.'  That  he  employs  61  1  now'  shows,  that 
he  has  not  so  much  in  mind  the  n£>g  Ztyovon  1  how  do  some  say,'  as  the 
simple  Myavoiv,  *  they  say.' 

3  oi:y  Xoiiv. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


243 


we  must  bear  in  mind  what  is  contained  in  the  premises  as  Paul 
states  them — not  simply  that  4  the  spirits  of  the  dead  continue  to 
live,  while  their  bodies  shall  not  be  reanimated,'  but  '  if  with  the 
death  of  the  body  all  life  be  absolutely  annihilated.'1  His  argument 
may  then  assume  this  form.2  '  What  is  universally  impossible  can- 
not occur  in  a  particular,  definite  instance.  If  there  be  found  no 
place  for  the  return  of  the  dead  to  life,  then  Christ  is  not  restored  to 
life,  but  is  dead,  as  all  others  are.'  This  course  of  argument, 
obvious  as  it  maybe,  is  attended  with  some  difficulty.  I  do  not  here 
refer  to  the  fact  that  Paul  has  identified  the  continued  existence  of 
the  soul  and  the  resurrection.  So  far  as  this  is  a  difficulty,  it  lies  in 
the  fundamental  conception  of  the  subject,  not  in  the  reasoning. 
Neither  do  I  allude  to  the  fact,  that  there  seems  to  be  a  difference 
between  the  calling  to  life  of  a  corpse  that  had  been  dead  but  thirty 
six  hours,  and  one  that  had  been  for  a  long  time  decayed.  Paul 
does  not  here  view  the  subject  in  the  aspect  of  a  purely  natural 
possibility  ;  and  even  if  he  had  done  so,  he  could  have  replied,  that 
with  the  Almighty,  who  '  calleth  things  which  be  not,  as  though  they 
were,'3  there  is  no  difference  between  what  is  easy  and  what  is 
difficult.  But  what  I  here  intend  is  this — the  conclusion  that  there  is  no 
resurrection  of  the  dead  if  Christ  be  not  risen,  can  hold  only  so  far  as 
Paul  establishes  a  perfect  coincidence  between  the  nature  of  Christ 
and  that  of  man.4  So  far  as  Christ  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  being  of 
a  higher  nature,  so  soon  as  he  is  considered  the  eternal  Logos,  the  cre- 
ating power  of  God,  the  same  rule  or  law  for  him  and  for  created  man 
cannot  hold,  and  while  he  must  have  a  continued  existence,  the  ceasing 
to  exist  on  the  part  of  man  is  conceivable.  We  are  thus  compelled  to 
say  that  Paul  views  Christ  here  only  in  his  human  nature,  which  cer- 
tainly is  the  same  with  the  nature  of  all  other  men.  He  does  not  speak 
of  a  distinction  between  the  nature  of  Christ  and  that  of  men,  or  at  least 
it  is  nowhere  definitely  indicated.  Thus  it  only  remains,  either  that 
the  apostle  had  unconsciously  before  his  eyes  the  human  nature  of 
Christ,  or  else  the  argument  does  not  prove  what  he  intended. 

1  Comp.  v.  19,  29—32. 

2  From  Knapp  316,  somewhat  different  from  that  followed  by  Heydenreich 
and  Flatt. 

3  Rom.  4:  17. 

4  Believers  are  in  this  case  to  be  regarded  simply  as  men,  since  their 
union  with  Christ  has  altered  nothing  in  their  nature. 


v 


244  THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 

Allowing  the  validity  of  the  reasoning,  he  might  proceed  at  once  to 
affirm, '  but  now  is  Christ  risen,  and  therefore  there  will  be  a  [gen- 
eral] resurrection.'  He  postpones  this,  however,  to  the  twentieth 
verse,  in  order  first  to  adduce  certain  consequences  which  would 
follow  on  the  supposition  that  Christ  was  not  raised.1 

V.  14.  If  Christ  be  not  raised,  then  is  our  preaching  vain  and  your 
faith  is  also  vain. 

First  consequence.  If  Christ  be  not  risen,  then  the  preaching  of 
the  apostles  and  the  faith  of  Christians  are  vain.  To  understand  by 
4  preaching'  simply  the  declaration  respecting  the  resurrection  of 
Christ  would  give  too  narrow  a  sense.  Paul  expresses  himself  with- 
out limitation,  and  he  must  certainly  be  regarded  as  referring  to  the 
whole  circle  of  his  preaching.  In  a  more  special  sense  it  related  to 
Christ,  the  reconciler  of  man  with  God,  the  liberator  from  the  guilt 
of  sin,  the  author  of  the  right  to  eternal  life  for  those  united  to  him, 
and  the  founder  of  the  church  of  God,  which  embraces  all  nations 
without  distinction.  Paul  avers  that  this  preaching  would  be  useless 
if  Christ  were  not  risen.  In  what  manner  it  would  be  useless  he 
explains  in  the  seventeenth  verse.  If  the  work  of  redemption  had 
not  been  accomplished,  then  the  merits  of  Christ  would  have  been 
of  no  service  whatever,  and  the  proclamation  of  his  grace,  failing  in 
objective  truth,  would  have  been  a  declaration  of  falsehood.  '  Faith' 
is  also  a  general  term,  and  to  be  taken  in  the  wider  sense,  as  the 
belief  of  Christians,  a  conviction  in  respect  to  the  whole  circle  of 
evangelical  truth  and  a  reception  of  it  in  the  inmost  soul.  If  Christ 
were  not  risen,  this  faith  would  be  vain,  that  is,  it  would  rest  on  a 
false  foundation,  and  therefore  would  be  of  no  use  to  believers.  In 
order  to  justify  this  inference,  Paul  must  have  considered  that  not 
only  the  death  but  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  was  a  condition  of  his 
qualifications  as  a  Redeemer.  This,  indeed,  cannot  be  deduced 
with  entire  certainty  from  any  definite  expressions,  since  Paul,  who 
on  no  occasion  conducts  us  through  a  philosophical  theory  of  the 
terms  of  salvation,  but  everywhere  announces  what  had  actually  oc- 
curred, had  no  occasion  to  express  himself  on  the  point  in  question. 
It  may,  however,  be  recognized  as  well  from  scattered  hints,2  as  from 


2  Rom.  4.  25.  Phil.  3.  10. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


245 


the  entire  tenor  of  his  doctrines.  Thus  his  conclusion  rests  on  just 
grounds,  although  it  would  exert  its  peculiar  power  as  a  proof  only 
upon  him  who  was  fully  convinced  of  the  actual  fact  of  the  redemp- 
tion which  had  been  accomplished.  In  the  view  of  an  opponent  a 
consequence  would  not  follow,  except  when  it  embraced  something 
impossible,  an  absolute  contradiction  to  that  which  was  certainly  true, 
or  else  something  incontrovertibly  proved.  This  is  not  here  the 
case.  Faith  in  the  actual  existence  of  the  work  of  redemption  is 
grounded  on  the  fact  of  the  death  of  Christ,  and,  according  to  Paul, 
of  his  resurrection.  If  the  fact  be  not  true,  then  assuredly  the  faith 
falls  to  the  ground,  because  it  ceases  to  have  any  truth.  But  it  does 
not  follow  that  the  fact  itself  must  be  true.  Paul,  however,  writes 
in  the  most  lively  consciousness  of  this  salvation,  and  thus  portrays 
it  before  his  readers.  So  far  he  may  employ  the  consequence  as  an 
argument. 

V.  15.  Yea  also  we  are  found  false  witnesses  before  God,  because 
we  testify  against  God,  that  he  raised  Christ,  whom  he  did  not  raise, 
if  the  dead  are  not  raised. 

The  second  consequence.  The  apostles  are  deceivers  and  crimi- 
nals if  Christ  be  not  raised.  They  step  forward  as  witnesses  who 
have  seen  the  risen  Saviour,  while  yet  he  is  not  risen.  They  are 
thus  false  witnesses.  They  declare  that  God  has  raised  up  Christ, 
when  he  has  not  done  it.  Thus  towards  God  they  have  become 
false  witnesses.  False  testimony  is  the  crime  which  is  forbidden  in 
the  decalogue  ;  how  much  more  if  this  testimony  relate  to  what  God 
has  done  ?  The  expressions  are  finely  chosen  so  as  to  place  the 
crime  in  as  clear  a  light  as  possible.  '  We  are  found  false  witness- 
es.1 We  are  not  only  such,  but  we  are  discovered  to  be  such ;  we 
stand  in  that  position.  '  False  witnesses,'  not  deluded  but  deceivers 
— those  who  testify  that  they  have  seen  what  they  have  not  seen. 
'  False  witnesses  of  God.'  The  genitive  is  used  in  order  to  point 
out  him  of  whom  they  testified,  namely,  God,  that  he  had  done  what 
he  had  not  done.    This  testimony  Paul  terms'  against  God.'1 

1  The  preposition  y.aia  is  employed  with  the  design  of  aggravating  the  of- 
fence, for  it  presents  it  as  testimony  in  opposition  to  God.  This  preposition, 
indeed,  with  the  Genitive,  originally  signifies  merely  '  of,'  •  in  respect  to' 
any  object,  but  its  usage  has  been  so  modified  that  it  indicates  an  unfriendly 


246 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


The  last  position,  '  Whom  he  did  not  raise,  if  so  be  the  dead  are 
not  raised,'  was  not  absolutely  demanded  inasmuch  as  it  proceeds 
from  the  supposition  in  question,  but  viewed  oratorically  it  is  a  very 
energetic  repetition.  '  If  so  be,'  '  indeed,'  '  truly,'  4  if  it  be  actually 
true  what  they  assert.'  This  consequence,  powerfully  as  it  must 
have  stirred  the  feelings,  when  viewed  as  a  challenge  to  their  faith 
in  the  honesty  of  the  apostles,  and  deserving  of  high  praise  coming 
upon  them  as  an  oratorical  stroke,  would  yet  appear  forced  when 
considered  as  an  argument  addressed  to  an  opponent.  That  may 
certainly  follow  which  Paul  here  announces,  if  Christ  be  not  risen. 
But  little  as  a  man  would  regard  the  apostle  as  capable  of  a 
deceit,  so  little  still  could  he  see  an  absolute  impossibility  in  the 
case  ;  and,  as  before  remarked,  it  is  only  where  this  is  involved,  that 
a  consequence  becomes  a  valid  argument  in  the  view  of  an  op- 
ponent. 

V.  16 — 18.  For  if  the  dead  be  not  raised,  neither  is  Christ  raised  ; 
and  if  Christ  be  not  raised,  your  faith  is  vain,  ye  are  yet  in  your 
sins  ;  then  also  those  who  sleep  in  Christ  have  perished. 

This  may  seem,  so  far  as  the  thoughts  in  verses  13,  14  are  reiter- 
ated, a  mere  repetition  ;  but  I  think  it  is  more.  Did  Paul  wish  to 
deduce  the  series  of  consequences  which  would  flow  from  the 
position  that  the  dead  are  not  raised,  in  order  to  produce  the  desired 
effect  on  the  feelings,  then  the  members  of  this  series  must  follow 
each  other  in  a  rapid  manner,  and  he  could  not  delay  on  any  one  of 
them,  as  indeed  he  has  not  done.  The  reflection,  4  your  faith  is 
vain,'  would  bring  upon  the  true  Christian  a  burden  so  heavy  that 
rather  than  bear  it  he  would  submit  to  anything,  and  this  reflection 
Paul  could  not  suffer  to  remain  unemployed,  so  that  by  means  of  it 
he  might  bring  back  his  readers  from  the  thought 4  that  the  dead  are 
not  raised.'  Accordingly  he  reverts  to  it  once  more,  in  its  external 
form  connecting  it  as  a  proof  or  illustration  to  verse  15, 4  we  are 
false  witnesses,'  etc.,  but  in  fact  intending  a  still  further  reference  to 
verse  14,  4  your  faith  is  vain,'  etc.  4  Thus,'  he  exclaims,  4  if  the 
dead  be  not  risen,  then  also  Christ  is  not  risen,  but  if  Christ  be  not 
risen,  your  faith  is  vain.'  4  Faith'  must  be  taken  in  the  same  sense 
altogether  as  where  used  above,  else  the  apostle  could  not  be  under- 

or  hostile  relation.  Knapp  justly  shows  this,  p.  319,  in  opposition  to  Eras- 
mus, Beza  and  others. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


247 


stood  in  the  other  parts  of  the  comparison.  '  Is  useless.'1  This  I 
do  not  consider  as  entirely  equivalent  to  4  is  vain'2  in  verse  14.  The 
former  seems  to  point  merely  to  the  groundlessness  of  the  faith,  from 
which  follows  its  worthless  character,  its  want  of  value  ;  while  the 
latter  strongly  affirms, '  your  faith  will  not  save  you  ;'  to  which  the 
following  thought  is  annexed  as  a  comment ;  4  ye  shall  die  in  your 
sins,'3  means  'ye  shall  die  without  having  been  delivered  from  your 
sins,1  so  here  '  to  be  yet  in  your  sins,'  must  signify,  that  1  ye  are  not 
freed  from  your  sins.'  The  design  of  the  death  of  Christ  was  to 
rescue  mankind  from  their  sins,  and  to  present  them  faultless  before 
God.  For  this  end  believers  confide  in  Jesus,  through  whom  their 
sins  are  taken  away,  and  they  attain  a  state  of  justification.  If  they 
do  not  arrive  at  this  state,  then  their  faith  is  fruitless,  they  have  ac- 
complished nothing  by  it.  As  we  have  before  remarked,  Paul  pre- 
sents the  resurrection  as  a  condition  of  the  actual  achievement  of 
salvation  ;  thus  if  the  resurrection  does  not  follow,  then  faith  in  Jesus 
would  bring  no  fruit.  But  this  to  him  who  had  received  the  faith  in 
the  sincerity  of  his  soul  was  the  hardest  thing  which  could  befal  him  ; 
it  was  to  lose  his  life  and  his  labors  ;  and,  what  could  be  more  cruel 
than  this  ? 

In  verse  18,  Paul  deduces  another  consequence,  which  was  em- 
braced indeed  in  the  foregoing,  but  is  here  more  fully  brought  out, 
in  order  to  make  a  still  deeper  impression  on  the  feelings.  '  Then 
those  who  sleep  in  Christ  have  perished.'  He  refers  to  those  who 
had  died  in  communion  with  Christ,  or  as  believers  on  him,  the  Chris- 
tians who  were  already  dead.  We  are  not  here  to  think  of  the  mar- 
tyrs. Destruction,4  it  is  well  known,  is  the  lot  of  sinners,  when  sal- 
vation is  impossible.  But  if  Christ  has  effected  no  deliverance,  then 
perdition  will  be  the  common  doom  of  all  without  distinction,  the 
living  and  the  dead.  In  respect  to  the  living,  however,  there  is  one 
advantage.  Though  he  have  hitherto  mistaken  the  way,  he  may 
yet  by  some  other  path  reach  the  goal ; — but  all  the  dead — they  are 
given  over  a  prey  to  perdition  without  redemption.  Paul,  skilfully 
making  use  of  a  prevalent  mortality  at  Corinth,  which  might  have  here 
and  there  snatched  from  them  [the  Corinthian  believers]  a  loved  one, 
thus  leads  them  to  reflect,  that  if  they  denied  the  resurrection,  they 
would  pass  sentence  of  eternal  destruction  on  their  own  beloved  dead, 

1  iiuraia  iarlv.  2  xtv/j  iar'iv. 

3  John  8:  21 .  *  MXeiai 


248 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


which  certainly  they  would  not  wish  to  do.  This  argument  is  also 
oratorically  good,  and  appropriate,  but  would  be  deficient  as  a  con- 
vincing logical  proof  in  the  same  manner  as  the  preceding  inference. 

V.  19.  If  in  this  life  we  have  hope  in  Christ  only  we  are  of  all 
men  the  most  miserable. 

We  have  in  this  verse,  undoubtedly,  another  inference.  We  may 
inquire,  however,  whether  it  is  deduced  directly  from  the  position, 
4  if  the  dead  are  not  raised,'  or  indirectly  through  another  position, 
namely,  '  then  is  not  Christ  raised.'  We  think,  however,  that  the 
latter  is  firmly  established  in  the  fourth  and  subsequent  verses  in  or- 
der to  serve  as  an  immoveable  basis  for  the  contradiction  of  the  first 
position,  and  that  all  the  preceding  inferences  may  be  deduced  from 
the  single  [supposed]  fact,  '  Christ  is  not  raised.'  On  this  alone  we 
think  that  the  last  series  of  thoughts  rests,  and  as  there  is  not  a  syl- 
lable to  indicate  that  there  is  another  basis  assumed,  we  feel  very 
much  inclined  to  refer  this  [the  inference  in  the  nineteenth  verse] 
also  to  the  same  foundation.  Thus  it  may  be  argued  from  verse  28, 
that  the  idea  always  floating  before  the  mind  of  the  apostle  must 
have  been, 4  if  Christ  be  not  raised,'  not 4  if  the  dead  be  not  raised.' 
Besides,  there  appears  to  be  a  resemblance  between  verse  18  and 
verse  19.  What  in  the  first  is  asserted  of  the  dead,  is  in  the  last 
indeed  averred  of  the  living,  and  of  all  the  living  without  distinction, 
yet  the  language  refers  us  to  the  end  of  life,  as  is  implied  by  the  use 
of  the  Perfect  tense.  That  which  is  in  the  first  instance  declared  of 
some  persons,  in  the  last  appears  to  be  applied  to  all.  Finally,  the 
position  of  the  adverb  4  only'1  is  such  that,  although  on  the  supposi- 
tion of  a  harsh  inversion  it  might  certainly  be  connected  with  the 
phrase  4  in  this  life,''2  as  it  appears  to  have  been  viewed  by  all  the 
commentators,  Morus  excepted,  and  although  the  phrase,  4  only  in 
Christ',3  would  be  a  far  better  construction,  it  yet  appears  much  the 
most  simple  to  connect '  only'  with  4  Christ.'4  These  various  cir- 
cumstances have  led  me  to  deduce  this  verse  as  a  consequence  from 
the  second  position,  namely,  4  that  Christ  is  not  raised.'  To  hope  in 
one,  is  to  put  confidence  in  him.5  The  time  referred  to  in  the  verse 
must  be  that  period  when  we  shall  attain  the  reward  of  our  faith,  at 

1  uovov.  2  iv       Lwtj  ravrtj.  3  iv  floveo  tu>  Xqiotw. 

4  uovov  with  h  X^orw.        '  5  Comp.  Eph.  1: 12.  2  K.18:  5.  Judith  9:  7. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


249 


the  end  of  this  life.  But  povov  connected  with  iv  Xqhttm  suggests 
the  thought  of  the  exclusion  of  all  other  grounds  of  trust.  Accord- 
ingly we  have  the  idea, 4  If  through  the  course  of  this  life  we  repose 
our  entire  reliance  in  Christ  alone,  abjuring  all  other  grounds  of  con- 
fidence and  sources  of  happiness,  and  yet  Christ  be  not  raised,  but  be 
still  dead,  our  faith  a  dream,  our  sins  not  taken  away,  and  Christ 
able  to  accomplish  nothing  which  he  promised — then  we  of  all  men  are 
the  most  wretched.'  This  thought,  concentrating  into  one  great  impres- 
sion the  terrible  consequences  of  everything  which  had  been  previously 
declared,  is  fitted,  in  a  very  peculiar  manner,  to  be  the  key-stone  of 
the  entire  refutation.  The  phrase, 1  we  are  of  all  men  the  most  mi- 
serable,' may  be  explained  in  one  of  two  ways.  First,  the  miserable 
man  is  he  who  has  no  hope.  Far  more  wretched,  however,  is  the 
one  who  had  a  hope,  who  directed  to  it  the  whole  force  of  his  mind, 
regarding  it  as  infallible,  offering  up  everything  else  to  it,  when  at 
the  termination  of  his  course,  he  finds  himself  deluded,  and  is  com- 
pelled to  know  that  he  has  sacrificed  everything  to  a  shadow,  an 
empty  dream  ;  in  short,  that  all  his  longing  and  struggling,  his  has- 
tening and  running,  his  hopes  and  pains  have  come  to  nought.  Or 
we  may  suppose,  secondly,  that  the  apostle  has  entirely  descended 
to  the  common  modes  of  estimating  happiness  among  men ;  he 
regrets  that  he  had  devoted  his  life  to  goodness,  that  for  her  sake  he 
had  treated  the  pleasures  of  life  with  contempt,  when  after  all,  he 
has  no  reward,  no  enjoyment  for  his  sacrifices.  Such  an  exposition 
would  not  be  impossible.  Paul  always  knew  very  well  how  to  address 
his  readers  in  the  quarter  where  they  were  the  most  susceptible,  and  in 
verse  29  seq.,  we  have  in  fact  something  of  the  sort.  In  this  pas- 
sage, however,  he  certainly  considers  the  subject  from  a  more  ele- 
vated point  of  view.  I  cannot  consequently  adopt  the  latter  interpre- 
tation, but  must  adhere  to  the  first  named. 

V.  20.  But  now  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  become  the 
first  fruits  of  them  who  slept. 

Having  completed  the  delineation  of  the  unutterable  wretchedness 
embodied  in  the  single  thought, '  the  dead  are  not  raised,'  connecting 
it  with  the  inference  that  then  Christ  could  not  have  risen,  the  apos- 
tle takes  away,  as  with  one  stroke,  this  entire  misery,  by  the  trium- 
phant reflection, '  now  is  Christ  risen.'  The  great  results  he  then 
32 


250 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


describes  successively  from  verse  21  to  verse  28.  From  verse  29 
two  arguments  follow  in  order  to  overthrow  the  opposite  opinion. 
This  whole  subsequent  section  has  been  frequently  viewed  as  a  di- 
gression or  an  episode.  But  this  opinion  is  certainly  incorrect.  It 
is  the  principal  division,  and  the  only  one  of  a  positive  character  in 
the  whole  of  the  first  part  of  the  discussion.  It  cannot  be  consider- 
ed as  an  episode.  Much  more  natural  is  the  supposition,  that  the 
arguments  did  not  occur  to  Paul  till  he  came  to  verse  20  ;  they  then 
appeared  to  be  sufficiently  important  to  be  appended  to  the  conclu- 
sion. In  accordance  with  his  manner,  he  announces  the  fact  which 
will  take  away  the  opposite  consequences  before  mentioned,  which 
would  flow  from  the  position,  [that  the  dead  are  not  raised.]  This  is 
fitly  introduced  by  the  particles  4  but  now.'1  The  result,  properly 
speaking,  he  rather  intimates,  than  expresses  in  so  many  words, 4  thus 
all  this  misery  is  taken  away  ;  rather  is  our  resurrection  now  made 
certain  to  us.'  '  Christ  is  raised,'  he  exclaims, 1  and  become  the  first 
fruits2  of  them  who  slept.'  The  meaning  of  this  clause  might  refer 
to  those  who  first  died,  but  the  whole  connection  of  the  passage,  and 
particularly  verse  23,  '  each  in  his  own  order,'  etc.,  show  clearly 
that  Christ  is  intended  as  the  one  who  first  rose,  the  first  fruits  of 
them  who  slept,  the  first  one  who  was  brought  to  life  from  the  realm  of 
death.  First  fruits,  however,  are  followed  by  a  harvest.  Therefore  the 
consequent  resurrection  of  all  connected  with  Christ  is  involved, 
that  is  of  all  believers.  The  full  sense  of  the  passage  is  accord- 
ingly this,  '  Christ  is  risen,  not  in  order  to  remain  the  only  one  so 
risen,  but  that  he  might  be  the  first  among  his  associates,  the  precur- 
sor of  all  the  others,  the  primary  member  in  a  long  series  of  his 
friends  who  have  fallen  asleep.'  The  same  idea  could  have  been 
expressed  thus, '  that  he  might  be  the  first  fruits  of  them  who  slept,' 
or  '  thus  he  became  the  first  fruits,'3  etc.  How  far  Christ  is  the  first 
fruits,  and  how  his  resurrection  follows  from  that  of  believers,  the 

1  vwl  St.  2 *  First  fruits,"  see  Rotn.  8:  23.  II:  16. 

3  £££  to  sivoll  aTTaQyf/  tojv  asyoi/x.,  or  v.ai  oirojg  drrfxgy?}  iytvero  twp  xsa. 
This  appears  to  be  what  Billroth  means,  when  he  remarks  that  the  words 
'  became  the  first  fruits.'  etc.  are  not  merely  to  be  considered  as  in  apposi- 
tion, but  as  a  predicate  of  the  entire  preceding  proposition.  Grammatically, 
indeed,  they  are  only  in  apposition,  but  such  a  construction  in  Greek  fre- 
quently expresses  a  complete  idea  of  what  is  contained  in  the  main  propo- 
sition. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


251 


apostle  fully  explains  in  the  following  section.  We  are  now  to  listen 
to  him,  and  to  exhibit,  in  as  perspicuous  a  manner  as  possible,  the 
true  sense  and  bearing  of  his  arguments,  entirely  abstaining  from 
that  exposition  which  is  properly  of  a  dogmatical  character. 

V.  21,  22.  For  since  by  man  was  death,  so  by  man  was  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead  ;  for  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in  Christ  shall 
all  be  made  alive. 

That  Paul  here  designs  an  illustration  is  evident  from  the  particle 
4  for.'  The  principal  proposition, '  Christ  is  now  raised,'  cannot  be 
referred  to.  It  is  manifestly  that  which  is  in  apposition,  namely, 
4  that  he  might  become  the  first  fruits  of  them  who  slept.'  But  the 
subject  is  illustrated  by  means  of  a  parallel,  which  the  apostle  draws 
in  the  same  manner  as  in  Rom.  5:  12  seq.,  between  Adam  the  au- 
thor of  sin  and  death,  and  Christ  the  destroyer  of  sin  and  the  restorer 
to  life.  Both  Adam  and  Christ  he  places  here,  as  well  as  there,  at 
the  head  of  two  series  or  races,  the  representatives,  as  it  were,  and 
the  leaders.  The  second,  Christ,  abolishes  what  the  first  introduces, 
restoring  back  to  man  what  the  first  Adam  took  from  him.  *  By 
man  was  death.'  This  is  more  fully  expressed  and  illustrated,  Rom. 
5:  12.  4  By  one  man  sin  came  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin.7 
The  death  is  here  to  be  understood  simply,  or  at  least  principally, 
in  a  physical  sense.1  In  the  subsequent  member  of  the  sentence  the 
conjunction  teal2  has  obviously  the  meaning  4  also,'  or  4  even  so.' 
The  4  man'  is  Christ,  who  in  order  to  preserve  the  parallel  must 
here  be  necessarily  designated  as  a  man.  4  Resurrection  of  the 
dead,'  is  not  in  itself  altogether  the  right  expression  to  indicate  the 
antithesis.  It  would  be  either  4  life,'  or  4  a  return  to  life,'  if  we  re- 
gard death  as  the  loss  of  life.  While  Paul,  as  already  remarked, 
recognises  a  return  to  a  life  which  was  lost,  only  through  the  me- 
dium of  the  resurrection,  consequently  both  ideas  with  him  are  per- 
fectly equivalent,  so  that  the  deficiency  in  he  antithesis,  on  this 
ground,  disappears.  The  relation  between  the  former  and  the  latter 
members  of  the  sentence  is  pointed  out  by  endd)),  4  since  indeed,' 
4  because  now,'  a  particle,  both  of  time  and  of  causality,  in  which 

1  See  Note  E,  at  the  close  of  this  Article. 

2  Kal  §1  av&Qvmov  dvdoraoie  vexgo/v. 


252 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


the  meaning  seems  to  lie,  that  as  it  had  been  man  who  had  destroyed 
life,  so  also  it  must  be  man  who  should  restore  it.  This  is  illustrated 
in  the  following  verse — (not  in  the  light  of  a  demonstrative  proof 
which  could  not  here  be  given),  by  the  introduction  of  some  new 
marks  or  indications.  The  first  is,  the  similar  position  of  the  two  per- 
sons Adam  and  Christ,  as  the  heads  of  their  respective  races,  and  the 
consequences  in  relation  to  the  authors,  expressed  by  the  particles 
4  as,1  and  '  so.'1  The  second  mark  is  in  the  preposition  4  in.'  4  In 
Adam,1  says  he,  '  all  die.1  This  can  mean  nothing  else,  than  that 
this  happens  by  virtue  of  the  connection  in  which  they,  the  all,  stand 
to  him ;  inasmuch  as  they  are  of  his  race  ;  thus  what  necessarily 
befals  him  must  likewise  befal  them,  namely,  mortality.  Thus  it 
remains  undetermined,  whether  Paul  has  considered  this  relationship 
as  a  merely  physical  one,  that  of  descent,  or  a  moral  one,  as  men 
are  all  sinners  like  Adam,  or  both  in  connection.  4  Even  so  now,' 
he  proceeds,  4  in  Christ  all  shall  be  made  alive.1  Here  the  use  of 
the  Future  tense,  which  exhibits  the  consequences  as  yet  to  be  ex- 
pected, shows  that  the  apostle  contemplates  a  restoration  to  life, 
(which  is  also  indicated  by  the  connection)  which  is  not  a  species  of 
moral  restoration,  but  of  a  physical.  In  order,  however,  that  the 
similarity,  pointed  out  by  the  particles,  may  find  a  place,  the  clause, 
4  in  Christ,'2  will  not  simply  signify  4  through  Christ,1  that  it  is  he 
who  awakens  all,  but,  that  by  virtue  of  the  connection  in  which  they 
stand  to  Christ,  so  far  as  they  are  spiritual,  (and  no  other  relation 
with  Christ  can  be  thought  of),  they  belong  to  his  race  or  generation, 
they  must,  with  him,  also  live  as  he  himself  does ;  they  must  return 
to  life  in  the  same  way  that  he  did.  Thus  as  Paul  finds  the  ground  of 
all  the  happiness  which  comes  to  man,  only  in  communion  with  Christ, 
so  he  places  ihe  hope  of  a  future  life  in  Christ  alone,  and  thereby, 
what  he  here  asserts  is  in  full  agreement  with  Rom.  8:  10  seq. 
But  what  follows  from  it  ?  That  the  resurrection,  which  he  expects, 
can  refer  only  to  those  who  stand  in  such  union  with  him  as  that  is 
upon  which  he  enlarges  in  verse  35  seq.,  where  he  speaks  of  the 
mode  of  the  resurrection  ;  it  can  relate  only  to  those.  Thereby  he 
has  settled,  as  it  seems  to  me,  the  controversy,  not  yet  decided,  re- 
specting the  extent  of  the  meaning  of  4  all,1  ttuvtsc,  in  this  passage. 
Those  who  are  not  united  to  Christ  can  expect  no  resurrection.  Paul 

1  ujantQ  and  oi  rojg. 


2  tV  TUJ  XrnOT'~> 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


253 


does  not  mention  such  in  his  Epistles.1  They  belong  only  to  the 
first  series,  only  to  the  race  of  Adam  ;  as  such  they  are  obnoxious 
to  death  ;  as  sinners  they  go  to  destruction.  An  existence  after  this 
life  he  may  have  assigned  to  them,  also  a  kind  of  resurrection  per- 
haps, in  reference  to  the  judgment,  which  he  calls  the  resurrection 
in  Acts  24:  15,  where  nothing  depends  on  an  accurate  definition  ; 
not  using  the  term  there  in  the  special  and  higher  sense  in  which  he 
has  employed  it  in  his  Epistles.  Here  the  '  all'  are  certainly  be- 
lievers only. 

V.  23.  But  each  in  his  own  order ;  Christ,  the  first  fruits,  then 
those  who  are  Christ's  at  his  coming. 

The  order  of  the  resurrection.  The  dead  shall  be  raised,  each  in 
his  own  order.  The  word  rixyiia,  ordo,  order,  is  not  properly  ab- 
stract, but  it  signifies  that  which  is  ordered,  arrayed.  They  are  the 
ranks,  divisions,  cohorts  in  a  warlike  host.  Still,  elsewhere,  the 
meanings  of  the  words  ray  pa  and  id^ig  seem  to  flow  into  each  other.2 
The  order  itself  is  simple.  Christ,  the  first  fruits,  that  is,  first  fruits 
of  all ;  then  those  who  are  Christ's,  who  belong  to  him,  Gal.  5:  24. 
Their  return  to  life  follows  his  coming  ;  that  is,  at  the  time  when  he 
shall  come  in  his  glory  to  raise  the  dead  and  judge  the  world.3 

V.  24.  Then  the  end,  when  he  delivers  up  the  kingdom  to  God, 
even  the  Father,  when  he  shall  put  down  all  authority  and  power  and 
might. 

What  strictly  belongs  to  the  discussion  is  ended,  for  there  is  noth- 
ing more  said  of  the  resurrection.  But  the  spirit  of  the  apostle  hav- 
ing once  mounted  up  to  that  time  when  the  resurrection  has  passed, 
or  is  about  to  take  place,  and  the  great  spectacle  has  presented  itself  to 
his  vision,  then  he  feels  constrained  to  finish  the  picture  fully  to  that 
point,  where  all  thought  ceases,  where  all  our  imaginations  fade 

1  See  Note  F,  at  the  close  of  this  Article. 

2  Comp.  Clem.  Roman.  Ep.  Corinth.  I:  37,  i'xaarog  r^oyv  tv  rw  iSioj  rdy- 
fiatt  td  tntraoaofiava  imrtlu ;  also  41 ,  i'y.aorog  tj/hojv  iv  rw  id.  rdyju.  svya- 
QiaxHroi  day,  1  Let  each  one  of  us  in  his  own  rank  perform  the  required  du- 
ties,' and  '  let  each  one  of  us  in  his  own  order  give  thanks  to  God.' 

3  1  Thess.  2:  19.  4:  13.  2  Thess.  2:  8. 


254 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


away  in  the  shoreless  sea  of  eternity.  '  Then  the  end,'  he  exclaims. 
The  adverb  appears  to  show  that  the  '  end'  follows  the  resurrection 
immediately,  and  as  there  is  no  other  passage  in  his  epistles  at  vari- 
ance with  it,  we  must  regard  this  as  his  meaning.1  But  what  is  this 
4  end  ?'  Not  the  end  of  all  existence,  for  such  Paul  did  not  expect, 
but  the  end  of  this  world  as  at  present  organized,  the  moment  of  the 
completion  of  all  those  things  which  belong  to  the  Divine  plan  of 
redemption,  the  end  of  time  and  the  beginning  of  eternity,  of  which 
the  apostle,  1  Thess.  4:  17,  can  say  nothing  further,  than,  '  thus  we 
shall  be  ever  with  the  Lord.'  If  we  are  satisfied  that  he  can  mean 
this  only,  that  he  has  not  given  a  more  definite  idea,  and  that,  per- 
haps he  had  nothing  further  to  communicate,  why  then,  without  the 
least  security,  [of  being  right,]  should  we  seek  to  supply  the  defi- 
ciency [as  we  may  consider  it]  elsewhere,  or  from  our  own  conjec- 
tures ?  Still  something  coetaneous  with  the  '  end'  he  allows  us  to 
perceive  in  the  words,  '  when  he  shall  deliver  up  the  kingdom,' 
etc.  The  Present, '  when  he  delivers  up,'2  resting  on  good  authority, 
places  the  4  giving  up'  in  the  same  time  with  the  '  end,'  Ttkog,  as  it 
harmonizes  best  with  the  whole  passage,  and  particularly  with  verse 
28.  The  word  oiav  is  a  relative  particle  of  time,  in  Latin,  finis, 
quum  tradit ;  as  we  should  say, 6  when  he  shall  deliver  over.'  Hence 
from  these  words  nothing  at  all  can  be  derived  in  the  shape  of  a 
proof  of  an  intermediate  period  between  the  '  resurrection'  and  the 
1  end.'  Paul  thus  teaches,  that  Christ,  on  his  return,  when  the  resur- 
rection of  believers  is  accomplished,  having  been  Lord  of  all  with 
the  design  of  completing  the  great  plan  of  redemption,3  will  deliver 
up  the  government  to  God.    He  terms  him  '  God  and  Father,'  that 

1  1  know,  indeed,  that  others,  fur  example  Bertholdt  in  his  Christology, 
p.  179,  and  Billroth,  judge  differently,  and,  fortified  by  passages  from  Pcab- 
binical  and  apocalyptical  writers,  insert  a  long-  period,  the  reign  of  a  thou- 
sand years,  between  the  '  resurrection'  and  the  '  end  and  I  am  aware  also 
that  Paul  shared  with  his  countrymen  substantially  in  his  ideas  cn  such  sub- 
jects, and  hence  he  may  be  often  illustrated  from  their  writings.  But  I  do 
not  believe  that  he  was  compelled  to  say  on  all  points  just  what  they  said, 
while  in  bis  own  free  and  active  mind,  many  things  would  be  variously 
modified,  and  hence  if  his  words  contain  nothing  of  consequence  which  one 
finds  in  those  writers,  but,  on  the  contrary,  exhibit  in  their  simple,  literal 
sense,  different  things,  then  I  should  fear  lest  I  might  obtrude  foreign  no- 
tions upon  him,  when  I  ventured  to  interpret  him  throughout  by  them. 

5  naQcMiZ.  3  Eph.  1 .  20—38.  Phil.  2;  9—1 ! . 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


255 


is,  him  who  unites  in  himself  both  predicates,  '  GocT  and  '  Father.' 
It  is  here  used  in  relation  to  Christ  in  the  same  manner  as  is  com- 
monly done  in  the  formula,  4  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.'1  But  this  surrender  will  take  place  after  he  has  put  down 
all  powers,  dominions  and  principalities.  The  subjugation  must 
precede  the  surrender,  for  this  is  the  object  which  Christ  is  to  attain 
by  his  government  of  the  world.  The  1  powers'  must  be  the  4  ene- 
mies' spoken  of  in  verse  25  seq.  Earthly  princes  and  potentates 
cannot  be  meant,  neither  does  the  idea  of  demons'  exhaust  the  full 
sense  of  the  words,  for  in  verses  25,  26,  death  is  included  in  the  hos- 
tile powers.  Paul  indeed  personifies  death  by  the  manner  in  which 
he  has  spoken  of  it,  but  still,  assuredly,  he  could  not  have  regarded 
it  as  an  actually  existing  person.  We  must  accordingly  interpret  it 
of  all  those  powers,  which  are  opposed  to  the  entrance  of  a  perfect 
state — to  what  is  now  an  ideal  condition  of  things. 

V.  25,  26.  For  he  must  reign  until  he  has  put  all  enemies  under 
his  feet  ;  death,  the  last  enemy,  shall  be  destroyed. 

Here  we  have  the  explanation  of  what  is  contained  in  verse  24. 
The  apostle  has  in  view  the  surrender  of  the  dominion — which  in- 
volves the  idea  of  the  possession  of  it — and  the  destruction  of  every 
hostile  power  as  matters  well  understood.  It  now  seems  to  occur  to 
him,  that  possibly  they  cannot  be  so  perfectly  known  to  the  Corin- 
thians ;  therefore  he  subjoins  the  following  position,  not  as  a  new 
one,  but  merely  as  a  carrying  out  of  the  preceding.  The  principal 
idea  in  the  first  proposition  is  contained  in  the  '  must,'  the  del, 1  he 
must  reign,'  that  is, 4  you  must  understand  that  there  is  a  necessity 
in  the  Divine  plan,  in  respect  to  the  world,  that  Christ  must  reign 
thus  long.'  The  necessity  is  not  strictly  the  reigning,  but  the  reign- 
ing up  to  a  definite  period.  This  period  is  thus  indicated, '  until  he 
has  put  all  enemies  under  his  feet.'  That  Paul  has  in  his  mind,  Ps. 
110:  1, '  The  Lord  said  unto  my  Lord,'  etc.,  is  allowed,  but  only  so 
far  as  the  idea  has  assumed  the  same  form.  Though  many  inter- 
preters, depending  on  this  passage  and  on  verse  27,  assume  God  as 
the  subject,  yet  I  must  think  not  correctly.  In  the  first  place,  it  is 
unnecessary.  Had  we  the  passage  formally  cited  from  the  Psalm, 
then,  possibly,  we  must  admit  the  necessity.  But  we  have  merely 
1  Comp.  Rom.  15:  5.  Eph.  1.  3. 


256 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


the  passage  as  employed  in  the  expression  of  a  similar  thought,  when 
there  is  no  identity  in  respect  to  the  subject  in  the  two  places.  In 
verse  27,  God,  without  being  named,  is  indeed  the  subject  ;  but  it 
does  not  follow  that  he  must  be  here  ;  it  is  the  less  so,  because  the 
contents  of  the  two  verses,  as  will  be  shown,  are  different.  In  the 
second  place,  the  supposition  is  not  admissible.  With  a  correct  view 
of  the  object  of  our  verse,  as  above  expressed — (and  when  we  con- 
sider its  meaning  in  connection  with  verse  24,  and  it  must  be  so  con- 
sidered)— then  here  we  cannot  regard  the  words  as  referring  to  what 
God  does,  but  only  to  what  Christ  has  done,  or  is  to  do,  during  the 
period  of  his  dominion.  It  is  in  accordance  with  the  eternal  counsel 
of  God,  which  must  be  accomplished,  that  Christ  should  be  clothed 
with  universal  power,  in  order  that  he  might  put  all  his  enemies  un- 
der his  feet.  This  last  phrase1  is  a  figurative  expression,  meaning 
4  to  conquer,'  '  to  tame,'  differing  from  xaruQ/siv  4  to  subdue,'  verse 
26,  only  in  this,  that  the  latter  conveys  the  idea  of  complete  annihila- 
tion, while  the  former,  employed  in  relation  to  all  enemies,  cannot 
be  so  used.  Of  these  enemies,  we  are  to  understand,  as  above  inti- 
mated, everything  which  in  the  period  before  the  final  consum- 
mation, stands  opposed  to  the  introduction  of  the  perfect  kingdom  of 
God,  including  the  infernal  powers,  as  well  as  sin  and  death. 

V.  27.  For  he  hath  subjected  all  things  under  his  feet ;  but  when 
he  saith, 4  he  hath  subjected  all  things,'  it  is  manifest  that  he  is  ex- 
cepted, who  subjected  all  things. 

This  must  serve,  as  the  particle  4  for'  shows,  to  confirm  or  illus- 
trate the  last  sentence,  namely,  why  must  Christ  destroy  all  his  ene- 
mies. The  words, 4  he  hath  subjected  all  things  under  his  feet,'  are 
borrowed  from  Ps,  8:  7,  and  thus  God  is  to  be  understood  in  the 
otherwise  very  remarkable  omission  of  the  subject.  The  4  subjec- 
tion,' however,  is  essentially  different  from  4  the  placing  under  the 
feet,'  in  verse  25.  It  is  nothing  else  than  the  act  of  the  Divine  will, 
by  which  the  Son  is  clothed  with  the  power  and  the  right  to  rule  over 
all,  and  to  subdue  all  enemies,  as  Jesus  says  of  himself, 4  all  power 
is  given  unto  me  in  heaven  and  on  earth,'2  an  act  which  must  have 
occurred  before  this  course  of  subjugating  all  things  commenced, 

1  &uvau  vno  tovg  Ttodac. 


2  Matt.  28:  18. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


257 


but,  according  to  the  passages  quoted  in  the  comment  on  verse  24,1 
has  actually  taken  place  since  the  elevation  of  Christ ;  it  is,  as  it  were, 
a  temporary  resignation  of  the  government  of  the  world  to  the  exalt- 
ed Messiah,  while  '  the  placing  under  his  feet'  is  not  fully  accomplish- 
ed till  Christ's  second  coming.  Now,  however,  the  apostle  seems  to 
be  apprehensive,  lest,  to  the  proposition  before  laid  down  of  the  sub- 
jection of  all  things  to  Christ,  should  be  annexed,  by  sophistical  rea- 
soning, with  which  he  had  perhaps  already  met,  a  false  interpreta- 
tion, as  if  in  the  existing  period,  God  himself  is  reduced  to  nought, 
as  if  he  had  entirely  divested  himself  of  the  government  of  the  world, 
as  if  he  was  now  at  rest,  or  was  himself  placed  under  subjection  to  the 
Son,  an  idea  which  indeed  the  representation  of  the  dominion  of  the 
Logos  may  produce,  and  has  often  produced  ;  the  conception  of  God, 
through  the  greater  prominence  of  the  Logos,  becoming  estranged 
from  the  feelings,  as  darkened  by  Christ's  nearer  light.  In  order  to 
prevent  such  an  interpretation,  Paul  adds  the  following  merely  inci- 
dental remark,4  When  he  says,'  etc.  Inasmuch  as  this  last  position 
is  a  quotation  from  the  Scriptures,  we  must  judge  in  relation  to  the 
subject  as  in  1  Cor.  6:  16.  If  this  were  not  a  citation,  one  might 
suppose  that  he  had  Christ's  own  words  in  his  mind.  The  limitation 
which  he  makes,  is  indicated  by  him  to  be  such  an  one  as  interprets 
itself. 

V.  28.  Now  when  he  shall  subject  all  things  to  him,  then  also  the 
Son  himself  shall  be  subject  to  him  who  subjected  all  things  to  him, 
that  God  may  be  all  in  all. 

In  the  words  Uxqi><;  ov,  verse  25,  lies  the  intimation  that,  according 
to  the  expectation  of  Paul,  the  kingdom  of  Christ  would  have  a  limit, 
that  it  would  not  be  eternal.  This  is  now  expressed  in  a  more  defi- 
nite manner,  as  illustrating  that  intimation.  All  must  now  be  in  sub- 
jection to  God,  consequently  even  the  Son  himself.  The  Father 
committed  to  him  the  government  for  the  purpose  of  restoring  the 
world  to  its  original  condition,  which  had  been  interrupted  by  Satan, 
and  so  that  to  him  as  Lord  every  knee  must  bow  ;  his  government, 
however,  would  continue  only  till  the  goal  should  be  reached,  till  the 

1  Eph.  1;  20 — 22,  "  When  he  raised  him  from  the  dead,  and  set  him  at  his 
own  right  hand."  etc.,  and  Phil.  2.  1).  it.  "  Wherefore  God  also  hath  highly 
exalted  him,'"  etc. 

33 


258 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


restitution  of  all  things.  Then  the  Son  will  give  back  the  dominion 
into  the  Father's  hand,  himself  also  being  subject,  and  the  original 
order  of  things  will  again  commence.  God  is  all1  in  all,  or  through 
all,  that  is,  he  is  the  only  absolute  sovereign  of  the  whole  world,  the 
world  in  all  its  parts  has  become  the  kingdom  of  God  alone.  As 
this  is  the  design  of  the  sufferings  and  reign  of  Christ,  which  his  de- 
livering up  of  the  dominion  would  perfectly  accomplish,  so  the  last 
position  is  indicated  by  the  particle  riV«, 1  in  order  that.' 

V.  29.  Else  what  shall  they  do  who  are  baptized  for  the  dead  ? 
If  the  dead  be  not  raised,  why  are  they  baptized  for  them? 

The  handling  of  the  question,  whether  the  dead  are  raised  or  not, 
is  now  properly  concluded.  It  seems,  however,  that  two  further  ar- 
guments occurred  to  the  apostle,  which  would  clearly  show  the  ab- 
surdity of  denying  the  resurrection  ;  these  he  proceeds  to  append. 
It  is  remarkable  only  that  he  should  have  introduced  the  first  of  these 
arguments  by  the  word  sun, '  since,'  as  if  a  proposition  affirming  the 
resurrection  had  immediately  preceded,  when  still  these  arguments 
stand  in  no  relation  with  the  contents  of  the  preceding  verses.  We 
must  attribute  this  to  the  freedom  of  the  epistolary  style,  and  suppose 
that  Paul,  after  finishing  verse  28,  perhaps  rested  a  while  from  writ- 
ing, or  was  called  away,  while  he  had  in  his  mind,  but  had  not  ex- 
pressed, the  thought, '  the  dead  will  be  raised.'  '  If  it  were  not  so,' 
he  continues, '  what  shall  they  do,'  etc.  4  On  the  words, '  baptized 
for  the  dead,'  there  have  been  so  many  interpretations  from  the  ear- 
liest times,  that  Mosheim  and  others  found  it  impossible  to  enume- 
rate them.  Since  Mosheim,  the  number  has  further  increased.  If 
any  passage  can  show  the  pernicious  influence  of  preconceived  opin- 
ions on  exegesis,  it  is  the  one  now  before  us.  The  words  are  so 
clear  that  they  contain  no  ambiguity  whatever,  and  their  literal  sense 
accords  so  perfectly  with  the  general  train  of  thought,  that  nothing 
less  objectionable  could  have  been  inserted.  But  this  sense  has  not 
pleased  the  interpreters ;  it  has  seemed  to  them  that  Paul  could  not 
have  expressed  it.    Thus  each  of  them  must  lay  this  poor  text  on 

1  The  article  creates  no  difficulty.  In  the  well  known  idiom  which  Paul 
here  employs,  we  have  to  ixav  and  ret  ndvra  ttvai,  not  indeed  so  often  as 
nav  and  7idvra>  but  still  they  are  used.  See  some  examples  in  Matth.  Gr. 
Gramm.  $  43*S,  Kypke,  Raphol. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


259 


his  Procrustean  bed,  and  there  mangle  it,  amid  the  lamentation  of 
grammar  and  the  common  usage  of  language,  until  a  sense  was  pro- 
cured, which  the  next  succeeding  interpreter,  not  recognizing  it  as 
his  own  work,  would  certainly  reject,  in  order  to  begin  again  the 
same  labor,  to  be  attended  with  like  results.  We  pass  all  this  over  ; 
the  words  give  but  one  sense ;  whatever  else  they  have  been  made 
to  signify,  must  be  false.  Why  should  we  recal  the  memory  of  these 
false  expositions  ?  The  phrase  means, 4  they  are  baptized  for,  or 
in  behalf  of,  the  dead.'  This  suggests  to  us  the  idea,  that  there 
were  those  in  Corinth,  who,  convinced  of  the  necessity  and  salutary 
influence  of  baptism,  and  erroneously  regarding  it  not  as  a  symbol, 
but  as  purifying  the  heart,  adopted  the  notion,  that  the  living  might 
stand  as  the  representative  of  the  dead,  in  order  that  the  dead  might 
share  in  the  benefits  of  baptism,  and  so  there  was  a  representative 
baptism.  Now,  were  there  no  other  life,  were  the  dead  not  raised, 
which  is  the  thought  which  lies  in  Paul's  mind,  then  there  would  be 
no  sense  in  a  baptism  like  this  ;  as  an  unmeaning  act  it  must  appear 
ridiculous.  These  were  Corinthians,  not  perhaps  the  identical  per- 
sons, but  still  Corinthians,  who  observed  this  usage  and  denied  the 
resurrection  ;  therefore,  they  would  contradict  themselves ;  they 
must  either  retract  their  denial,  or  confess  the  folly  of  their  prac- 
tice. Thus  it  is  a  very  good  argument  ad  hominem;  no  one 
would  receive  it  as  a  conclusive  refutation.  Had  we  no  other 
trace  of  the  existence  of  such  a  custom  in  the  primitive  church,  then 
we  must  consider  this  as  a  solitary  fact,  but  yet  one  to  be  depended 
on,  and  the  interpretation  would  remain  the  same.  But  we  have 
traces  which  are  certain,  and  such,  at  the  same  time,  as  show  us  how 
it  was  that  the  custom  was  early  introduced,  since  the  heretics,  the 
Marcionites  especially,  had  adopted  it,  at  least  in  reference  to  cate- 
chumens who  had  died  previously  to  baptism.1  Hence  the  passage 
is  so  understood  by  some  interpreters,  Ambrose,  Erasmus,  Grotius, 
Augusti,  Billroth,  etc.  But  the  observance  must  have  been  a  super- 
stitious one  ?  This  was  possible,  for  no  one  can  suppose,  that  the 
early  church  was  free  from  superstition.  But  Paul  could  not  ap- 
prove it  ?  Do  we  know  then  that  he  did  approve  it  ?  In  1  Cor.  10: 
4  seq.  he  mentions  the  public  speaking  of  women  in  the  church  with- 
out a  word  of  disapprobation,  and  then  in  14: 34,  he  utterly  prohibits 

1  Compare  Tertullian  De  Resurr.  48,  Adv.  Marc.  V.  10,  Epiph.  Haer.  48, 
Chrysost.  Horn.  40,  in  hoc  loc.    See  Note  G,  at  the  end  of  this  Commentary. 


260 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


such  speaking.  Just  so  it  might  have  been,  it  is  conceivable,  in  the 
end,  in  this  case,  though,  to  speak  honestly,  I  do  not  believe  that  he  dis- 
approved it.  An  ideal  Paul  indeed,  with  the  cultivation  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  would  have  done  so,  on  the  ground  that  the  usage  was 
not  only  superstitious,  but  because  it  was  pernicious,  as  it  supposed  a 
magical  power  in  baptism  without  improvement  of  the  heart.  But 
would  the  actual  and  historical  Paul  do  so  ?  He  regards  the  passage 
through  the  Red  Sea,  1  Cor.  10:  1,  as  a  baptism  ;  thus  he  might  attri- 
bute powers  to  baptism  which  no  one  of  us  should.  Perhaps  had  the 
usage  been  introduced  without  his  sanction,  he  might  still  tolerate  it, 
on  the  ground  that  it  was  consolatory  to  those  who  were  anxious  re- 
specting the  fate  of  their  friends  that  had  died  without  baptism.  Still, 
be  that  as  it  may,  the  thing  remains,  and  we,  whose  only  object 
is  historical  truth,  must  receive  it,  although  no  explanation  of  it  can 
be  given. — The  meaning  of  the  words  '  what  shall  they  do,'1  is  this, 
4  If  your  position  is  true,  that  is,  if  the  dead  do  not  rise,  then  these 
persons  must  cease  to  do  what  they  now  do.'  We  have  the  expres- 
sion '  the  dead,'  oi  vwqoI,  since  particular  individuals  were  meant,  and 
the  baptism  for  them  was  a  well  known  occurrence.  In  the  follow- 
ing clause,  the  words  in  the  text  copied  by  me,  namely, 4  for  them,' 
instead  of '  for  the  dead,'  have  been  approved  by  many  of  my  pre- 
decessors ;  they  give  a  stronger  and  hence  a  more  emphatic  sense. 
4  If  the  dead  are  by  no  means  raised,  that  is,  if  there  is  no  other  life 
to  be  expected,  why  still  are  these  [living  persons]  baptized  for 
them  ?' 

V.  30,  31.  And  why  arc  we  in  danger  every  hour  ?  daily  I  die, 
I  protest  by  our  rejoicing,  brethren,  which  I  have  in  Christ  Jesus, 
our  Lord. 

Here  we  have  a  second  argument.  It  has  no  connection  with 
verse  29,  except  what  exists  in  the  kindred  nature  of  the  object. 
The  exertions  of  the  Corinthians  in  their  baptism,  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  were  futile,  if  there  were  no  resurrection  ;  so  likewise  would 
the  labors  and  sacrifices  of  the  apostle  and  his  associates  be  folly, 
if  there  were  no  resurrection.  What  has  here  been  said  by  many 
on  the  connection  of  this  paragraph  with  the  last,  would  not  have 
been  said,  had  it  not  served  to  fortify  their  interpretation  of  verse  29. 

1  li  ItOMjQOVOLV. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


261 


We  need  not,  therefore,  here  consider  or  refute  it.  1  We,' 
may  refer  to  Paul  in  connection  with  others,  or,  it  may  more  appro- 
priately refer  to  him  alone,  xal  being  connected  with  the  pronoun, 
thus,  'I  also;'  4  we  are  all  foolish,  you  in  that  point,  1  in  this.' 
That  the  phrases, '  to  be  in  danger  every  hour,'  and  4  to  die  daily,1 
are  expressed  hyperbolically,  hardly  requires  a  remark.  In  the 
connection  in  which  the  last  stands,  it  can  indicate  only  a  daily,  that 
is,  a  constant  impending  of  fatal  dangers,  and  indeed  of  such  dan- 
gers as  were  caused  by  his  adversaries.  We  are  not  here  to  sup- 
pose sickness,  as  the  Epistle  furnishes  no  traces  that  he  was  subject 
to  any  corporeal  disease.  To  what  had  been  said,  Paul  subjoins  an 
assurance,  confirmed  by  an  oath.  Such  a  confirmation,  however, 
does  not  compel  us  to  understand  what  Paul  had  said  in  a  literal 
sense,  when  it  could  not  have  occurred  to  him  that  ihe  Corinthians 
would  so  understand  it.  On  inferior  authority,  I  have  preferred  the 
reading  'our,'  to  4  your.'1  In  justification  of  it,  I  remark,  in  the  first 
place,  that  in  reference  to  foeis  and  v^ing,  with  their  derivatives,  the 
constant  fluctuation  of  the  MSS,  arising  from  the  Iotacism,2  renders 
it  impossible  for  any  authority  to  be  considered  as  adequate.  The 
sense  in  such  cases,  is  always  to  be  carefully  consulted.  Thus  it 
may  happen,  that  the  meaning  which  is  best,  and  most  in  harmony 
with  the  context,  will  be  found  in  the  minority  as  it  respects  the 
MSS.  Such  a  sense  is  not  in  truth  exhibited  by  vpETsguv,  and 
this  is  our  second  argument.  In  that  case  the  pronoun  must  be 
taken  as  the  object,3  which  certainly  is  not  impossible.4  Still  it 
would  be  a  strange  thought  for  Paul  to  swear  by  his  glorying  of 
them,  (his  glorying  concerning  them,  not  in  them)  ;  and  besides,  he 
limits  it  by  showing  to  whom  it  relates,  namely,  it  was  that  which  he 

1  i/psTtpav  rather  than  ifiartQav. 

2  See  Note  H,  at  the  end  of  this  Article. 

3  Per  gloriam  (ineam)  de  vobis.    '  By  my  glorying  in  respect  to  you.' 

4  Cornp.  Matth.  Gr.  Gramm.  §  4G6.  2.  To  the  examples  there  found,  the 
following  are  subjoined,  Plat.  Apol.  p.  20.  E.  inl  SiafioXy  rjj  t^irt  ley  at. 
Thucyd.  I.  33,  (pofioi  raj  v/uereQw.  ib.  tt}v  r  fitreyav  iniyat^rjotv.  VI.  85,  inl 
toj  rj/MTSQto)  £vGT7}octVTsg  i fiag  vitoTtroj.  ib.  89,  rijg  ifiijg  Siaftotfg.  jEsch. 
Prom.  388,  fi?)  ydg  os  &QTtvog  o<  /udg  sig  sy&Qav  $ah].  Still  there  is  no  in- 
stance in  Matthiae,  nor  in  the  examples  which  I  have  adduced,  where  the 
verbal  root  of  the  substantive  xav'/ijoig  appears  to  be  construed  with  a  pre- 
position. 


262 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


had  in  Christ.  But  this  would  justify  the  most  solemn  appeal  which 
he  could  make — a  protestation  in  form  of  an  oath.  We  now  read 
fjpsTigav,  '  our,1  and  we  have  the  thought, '  in  the  trust  which  I  place 
in  Christ,'1  that  is,  1  so  true  as  I  myself  glory  in  Christ  my  Lord.' 
In  such  circumstances,  where  the  authority  is  doubtful,  and  we  are 
to  choose  between  a  very  good  and  a  very  bad  sense,  I  have  sup- 
posed that  to  adhere  to  an  established  usage  was  rather  the  sign  of 
the  want  of  critical  knowledge,  than  of  the  possession  of  it. 

V.  32.  If,  after  the  manner  of  man,  I  have  fought  with  beasts 
at  Ephesus,  what  profit  was  it  to  me  ?  If  the  dead  do  not  rise,  let 
us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  shall  die. 

This  is  not  a  new  position.  Having  embraced  his  entire  life  in 
verses  30,  31,  Paul  now  simply  refers,  as  an  additional  circumstance, 
to  the  fate  which  had  befallen  him  in  Ephesus,  where  he  now  was. 
On  '  the  contending  with  the  beasts,'2  expositors  have  arranged  them- 
selves into  two  great,  and  perhaps  about  equally  divided  parties,  one 
interpreting  the  matter  literally,  the  other  figuratively.  Of  the  later 
commentators,  Flatt,  Neander,3  and  Billroth,  incline  to  the  literal 
explanation.  I  have  already  given  my  reasons  in  the  Introduction, 
p.  12,  why  I  cannot  accord  with  the  literal  interpretation.  I  here 
add  the  following  considerations.  First,  the  silence  of  Luke  appears 
to  me  to  be  worthy  of  notice.  His  omissions  are  not  to  be  denied, 
yet  his  narrative  of  Paul's  residence  in  Ephesus  is  too  ample  to 
have  allowed  entire  silence  in  respect  to  an  event  of  this  sort — an 
event  which  could  not  have  been  produced  by  a  momentary  outbreak 
of  a  wildly  excited  multitude,  but  must  have  resulted  only  from  a 
judicial  proceeding  and  a  regularly  pronounced  sentence,  even  if,  in 
a  degree,  of  a  tumultuary  character,  an  event  which  consigned  the 
beloved  apostle  to  such  imminent  peril.  He  might  have  been 
thrown  to  the  wild  beasts  in  a  storm  of  popular  fury  ;  but  to  a  con- 
test with  wild  beasts  he  could  have  been  sentenced  only  by  a  Roman 
judge.  Secondly,  if  we  suppose  that  such  an  event  did  happen,  and 
Paul  had  consented  to  fight,  how  could  he  have  escaped  ?  Was  he 
a  man  of  uncommon  physical  strength  ?  or  did  he  try  his  gladiato- 

1  Kavy.  t'yuv  e'v  r.  =  l'yuv  xavyao&ai  i'v  v.,  in  whom,  any  one  may  glory, 
a  sense  well  established  in  1  Cor.  1:  31,  and  elsewhere. 

2  &rjQiofiayeip.  3  See  Neander,  as  above,  p.  12 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


263 


rial  art  ?  Or  can  we  imagine  a  miracle,  so  that  the  wild  beasts 
laid  aside,  in  respect  to  him,  their  ferocity,  and  allowed  him  to  es- 
cape unhurt  ?  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  He  must  have  been 
destroyed.  Thirdly,  if  the  contest  actually  occurred,  how  could  he, 
after  it,  have  remained  at  Ephesus,and  how  could  he  have  expressed 
himself  in  regard  to  his  abode  there  as  he  has  actually  done,  1  Cor. 
16:  9?1  In  that  case  we  must  imagine,  that  the  fortunate  escape, 
and  the  wonderful  deliverance,  had  so  turned  all  hearts  to  him,  that, 
though  he  had  been  sentenced  to  death,  he  was  now  unexpectedly 
able  to  remain  without  danger  in  a  city  which  had  just  before  been 
so  hostile  to  him.  But  where  is  the  right  to  suppose  this  ?  In  short, 
I  do  not  see  how  we  can  extricate  ourselves  from  the  difficulties  in 
which  the  literal  interpretation  will  involve  us,  and  hence  I  must 
still  adhere  to  the  figurative.  Of  those  who  decide  for  the  latter, 
some  refer  the  event  to  the  insurrection  of  Demetrius ;  others,  as 
Beza  and  Piscator,  to  the  controversy  which,  according  to  Acts  19:  9, 
the  apostle  had  with  the  unbelieving  Jews.  I  think  that  nothing 
very  definite  can  be  affirmed  respecting  it,  only  that  the  insurrection 
of  Demetrius  cannot  be  referred  to,  because,  as  it  appears  to  me, 
Paul  did  not  come  into  personal  danger  in  that  excitement.  Besides, 
if  he  wrote  the  epistle  subsequently,  he  could  not  possibly  have  dis- 
closed his  intention  of  remaining  there  till  Pentecost,  because  Luke, 
in  Acts  20:  1,  informs  us  that  he  very  soon  after  left  Ephesus, 
which  altogether  accords  with  his  usual  proceeding  in  such  cases. 
To  the  words, 1  after  the  manner  of  man,'2  as  many  meanings  have 
been  assigned  as  there  are  interpreters.  To  enumerate  them  would 
be  of  little  use,  as  the  greater  part  are  manifestly  groundless.  We 
therefore  proceed  to  investigate  the  point  itself.  In  the  first  place, 
it  will  make  a  great  difference  in  the  interpretation,  according  as  we 
annex,  or  not,  the  thought, '  if  still  the  dead  are  not  raised.'  On 
the  supposition  that  it  is  not  annexed,  two  interpretations  are  possi- 
ble. In  the  first  place,  we  may  consider  the  phrase,  f  to  fight  after 
the  manner  of  man,'  etc.  as  an  actual  fact,  and  thus  Paul  would  say  : 
'  What  should  I  have  gained,  when  I  fought,  or  that  I  should  have 
fought,'  etc.  In  this  case  xaia  ccv&q.  can  only  mean, 4  with  man's 
ability,'  '  according  to  what  man  is  able  to  do.'    That  the  words 

lu  For  a  great  and  effective  door  is  opened  to  me,  while  there  are  many 
adversaries."  1  Cor.  16-  0. 

2  Hard  uv&qouttov. 


264 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


might  mean  this,  I  believe,  though  I  cannot  bring  any  proof  passage. 
But  in  this  sense,  the  whole  question  has  no  sort  of  relation  to  the 
design  of  the  representation  ;  it  must,  therefore,  be  rejected.  In  the 
second  place,  we  may  suppose  that  Paul,  in  the  first  member  of  the 
sentence,  is  to  be  understood  in  a  negative  sense,  intending,  by 
means  of  the  subsequent  member,  to  destroy  the  force  of  the  hut. 
uvfrc)., 4  after  the  manner  of  man,'  in  the  first  member  ;  thus, '  if  I  only 
xai.  uv&q.  had  fought,  what  would  have  been  my  gain,'  that  is, 4  if  I 
had  done  this,  I  should  have  accomplished  nothing;1  whence  it 
would  follow,  4  that  I  did  not  perform  it  simply  xca.  uv&q.''  Thus 
this  expression  would  merely  mean, 4  after  man's  way,'  4  in  man's 
method,'  4  in  accordance  with  a  human  mode  of  thinking.'  If  we 
do  not,  however,  supply  the  following  words,  namely,4  without  refe- 
rence or  hope  of  a  higher  life  and  happiness,'  then  the  connection 
is  not  preserved  ;  and  if  we  should  supply  them,  no  sort  of  argu- 
ment would  be  made  out.  We  therefore  reject  this  method  of  solu- 
tion also,  and  assume,  that  the  clause,  4  if  the  dead  be  not  raised,' 
belongs  to  the  proof  of  this  point,  so  far  as  that  it  may  be  under- 
stood as  supplied  in  the  thought,  though  the  words,  as  expressed, 
may  be  more  properly  attached  to  the  following  sentence.  This 
mode  of  explanation  may  be  considered  as  more  correct,  inasmuch 
as  the  whole  process  of  reasoning  rests  on  this  hypothesis.  Thus 
Paul  asks, 4  if  I,  after  the  manner  of  man,  had  contended  with  wild 
beasts,  and  still  the  dead  be  not  raised,  what  would  it  have  profited 
me  ?'  that  is, 4  if  it  be  true  that  the  dead  do  not  rise,'  (in  the  sense 
of  Paul,  that  there  is  no  second  life),  4  what  then  would  it  have  pro- 
fited me,  if  I  should  have  fought  ?'  4  It  would  have  been  foolish. 
I  should  have  lost  my  pains  ;  thus  I  might  properly  say,  rather  let  us 
eat  and  drink,'  etc.  This  explanation  of  the  entire  phrase  enters 
well  into  the  connection,  because  what  he  would  show  is,  that  all 
struggles  and  pains  to  reach  a  higher  object,  would  then,  in  that  case, 
be  foolish.  We  suppose  that  the  words  x«t.  uv&q.  will  still  have 
only  the  sense, 4  according  to  man's  ability,  with  the  exertion  of  his 
higher  power ;'  we  have  thus  to  append  this  idea.  The  last  member 
of  the  sentence  appears  also  in  a  more  vigorous  form,  by  connect- 
ing 4  if  the  dead  be  not  raised,'  with  the  first  part  :  4  what  shall  I  ob- 
tain for  all  my  sacrifices  ?    If  the  dead  do  not  rise,  then  let  us,'  etc. 

The  words,  4  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die,'  are 
copied  exactly  from  the  Septuagint  version  of  Isa.  22:  13,  and  hare 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


265 


the  sense  1  let  us  enjoy  a  sensual  life.  Shortly  it  will  all  be  over."' 
They  thus  imply  a  demand  to  renounce  all  moral  effort,  to  do  no- 
thing but  enjoy  life,  since  death  puts  an  end  to  every  thing.  That 
Paul  does  not  thereby  indicate  the  feelings  of  his  readers,  but  simply 
wishes  to  call  attention  to  the  fact,  that  the  denial  of  the  resurrec- 
tion, (he  regarding  it  as  the  condition  of  a  future  life),  would  neces- 
sarily lead  to  these  frivolous  and  immoral  sentiments,  has  been 
already  suggested  in  the  comment  on  verse  12.  But  if  the  last  three 
verses,  particularly  the  conclusion  of  verse  32,  attaches  to  the  apos- 
tle the  idea  of  suggesting  a  mercenary  pleasure,  in  its  naked  form, 
then  it  may  be  the  duty  of  the  interpreter  to  say  a  word  to  his  read- 
ers on  the  point.  That  Paul  has  here  assumed  a  character  which  is 
in  no  sense  his  own,  that  he  is  not  speaking  in  his  own  person,  is  a 
supposition  which  is  the  less  conceivable,  because  he  had  mentioned 
that  his  own  labors  would  be  entirely  fruitless  without  a  resurrection. 
It  is  unquestionable  that  his  whole  life  would  have  appeared  vain 
and  aimless  to  him,  unless  there  had  been  beyond  the  grave  a  higher 
life,  as  a  fulfilment  or  completion  of  the  present ;  if  a  severe  moral 
philosophy  cannot  allow  this,  then  we  must  remember  that  Paul  was 
not  a  philosopher,  and,  perhaps,  had  never  in  his  life  heard  of  the 
abstract  worth  of  virtue.  Yet  he  was  too  much  of  a  practical  man, 
while  in  the  possession  of  a  living  hope  that  his  course  would  not 
be  fruitless,  to  ask  himself,  1  wouldst  thou  do  all  this  if  there  were 
no  hereafter,'  and  thus  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  would  not,  if 
there  were  none.  In  the  second  place,  he  here  speaks  oratorically, 
and  with  the  intention  of  producing  as  deep  an  impression 
as  possible  on  his  readers,  who  stand  on  a  lower  ground  ;  he  there- 
fore states  the  case  in  its  extreme  point,  while  all  his  epistles  repre- 
sent him  to  us  in  a  manner  entirely  different  from  that  presented  by 
the  words  in  question.  The  epistles,  without  doubt,  give  us  the  only 
correct  picture.  Finally,  the  reward  which  he  expected,  and  on  ac- 
count of  which  he  seems  to  have  labored,  was  not  that  of  pleasure  ; 
it  was  the  vision  of  Him  whom  he  loved,  of  Christ  his  Lord,  and  the 
most  intimate  communion  with  him,  who  was  here  the  soul  of  his 
life.  Such  was  his  desire  ;  though,  in  the  present  case,  it  assumed 
the  form  of  laboring  for  a  reward,  yet  it  was  entirely  a  spiritual  re- 
ward. 

V.  33,  34.    Be  not  deceived  ;  evil  communications  corrupt  good 
34 


266 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


manners.  Awake  to  righteousness  and  sin  not ;  for  some  have  not 
the  knowledge  of  God  ;  I  speak  this  to  your  shame. 

Here  we  have  the  conclusion  of  the  discussion,  whether  the  dead 
are  raised,  together  with  a  delineation  of  the  moral  corruption  to 
which  skepticism,  on  this  subject,  would  lead,  coupled  with  a  solemn 
warning.  In  respect  to  the  persons  addressed,  I  have  been  led  by 
Billroth's  observations,  to  the  following  conclusions.  In  the  first 
place,  we  do  not  know  who,  or  how  many,  at  Corinth,  shared  in 
doubts  respecting  the  resurrection.  Possibly  Paul  himself  did  not 
well  know  this.  In  the  mean  time  he  was  safe  in  proceeding  on  the 
assumption  that  there  were  but  few  who  absolutely  denied  it.  These 
deniers  are  nowhere  mentioned  in  this  passage.  Verse  36  may  be 
directed  against  them.  They  are  the  nv&g,  '  the  certain,'  in  verses 
12,  34.  Elsewhere,  in  these  thirty-four  verses,  the  Corinthians  are 
always  addressed.  Among  these  were  the  xivkc.  The  discussion  is 
conducted  before  the  whole,  in  order  to  confirm  the  believers,  to  re- 
store the  wavering  to  confidence,  to  confute  the  opponents,  and,  if 
not  to  convert  them,  at  least  to  render  them  harmless.  To  suppose 
that  what  is  directed  to  several  classes  of  persons,  did  not  go  before 
all  the  Corinthians,  but  only  to.  distinct  classes  of  them,  as  Billroth 
conjectures,  is  inadmissible,  especially  when  Paul  does  not  indicate 
by  a  single  word,  that  he  makes  any  such  distinctions.  He  certainly 
regards  the  deniers,  the  xivaq,  as  bad  men,  and  hence  he  warns  the 
Corinthians, '  Be  not  deceived,'  '  be  careful  not  to  fall  into  an  error.'1 
These  words  are  veiy  appropriately  addressed  to  all,  for  the  tiv&q 
were  in  the  midst  of  all,  and, 4  a  little  leaven  leavens  the  whole  lump.' 
He  also  points  out  the  danger  of  their  being  corrupted  by  intercourse 
with  the  individuals  referred  to  when  he  subjoins,  '  evil  intercourse 
corrupts  good  morals.'  The  interpreters  have  shown  that  these 
words  are  copied  from  the  Thais  of  Menander.  Paul  writes  XQW™, 
as  the  MSS.  and  the  Fathers  also  present  it,  not  XQy]a&.  Perhaps  he 
was  not  aware  that  he  was  citing  a  line  of  poetry,  which  might  have 
come  into  common  use  as  a  proverb,  or  he  designedly  sought  to  con- 
ceal the  poetical  form.  The  words  are  appropriate,  for  he  thus  as- 
sumes that  the  Corinthians,  as  yet,  possessed  good  morals,  while  he 
delineates  the  danger  of  intercourse  with  the  skeptics  in  question, 

2  nlavaod'at,  is  not  in  the  middle  voice,  but  in  the  passive,  and  hence 
it  may  be  best  translated  thus.  Comp.  1  Cor.  6:  9. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


267 


they  being  bad  men,  and,  indirectly,  advises  a  separation  from  them. 
More  severe,  appear  the  words,  ixv^yjaTB  dixalwg,  because  they  seem 
to  indicate  that  the  persons  referred  to  were  in  a  state  of  drunken- 
ness, or  intoxication.  Still,  that  a  separate  class  of  men  were  ad- 
dressed, will  not  follow,  partly,  on  the  ground  that  Paul  had  suffi- 
cient reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  the  Corinthian  church,  and  partly 
because  the  orators  of  antiquity  did  not  employ  such  delicate  terms 
in  addressing  their  hearers,  as  we  use  from  the  pulpit.  Whoever 
has  read  the  orations  of  Demosthenes,  will  understand  with  what 
compliments  he  favored  the  Athenians.  And  still  he  attained  his 
object.  The  word  dixcdwg,  one  may  understand  as  he  will.  The 
only  good  sense  is  the  following  :  4  that  which  is  right,' 4  fit,'  4  com- 
plete ;'  4  that  which  one  ought  to  do.'1  This,  though  it  may  be  un- 
common, is  notwithstanding  to  be  received.  Some  understand 
u[MiQiavuv  in  the  sense  of  4  err,'  4  mistake.'  But  it  is  never  used  by 
Paul  in  this  manner.  He  here  might  have  called  attention  to  the 
fact,  that  their  skepticism  was  either  itself  a  sin,  or  would  lead  to 
sin.  The  word  ayvcaala,  means  4  ignorance  of  any  thing.'2  Strictly 
speaking,  Paul  uses  it  thus  :  4  there  are  some  among  you  who  know 
not  God.'  Thus  we  may  explain  :  4  those  who  know  not  what  God 
can  do,  entirely  distrust  his  Almighty  Power.'  The  connection  is 
better  preserved,  while  the  warning  seems  to  be  appropriate,  if  we 
translate  thus :  4  who  do  not  understand,'  or,  4  who  do  not  wish  to 
understand  or  remember,  that  God  is  not  mocked,'  and,  therefore, 
they  are  not  afraid  to  provoke  him  by  their  immoral  instruction.3 

V.  35.  But  some  one  will  say,  How  are  the  dead  raised  ?  and  with 
what  body  do  they  come  forth  ? 

Having  now  sufficiently  considered  the  question  respecting  the 
fact  of  a  resurrection,  the  apostle  proceeds  to  the  second  inquiry  re- 
specting the  manner  of  it,  and  the  condition  of  the  bodies  which  shall 
be  raised.  The  transition  to  this  point,  he  effects  by  raising  an  ob- 
jection, 4  but  here  some  one  may  say,'4  etc.    We  may  conclude, 

1  Luther  translates,  1  werdet  doch  einmal  recht  nuehtern.' 

2  Eurip.  Med.  1173,  Elms].  t,vfi(j)0^ag  dyvojoi'a. 

3  1  Cor.  10:  22.  Comp.  on  ayvoia,  Eph.  4:  18.  Ttgos  ivvq.  v(x.  Xtyw,  see  1 
Cor.  6:  5. 

4  * AlX  ipst  xi$,  Sed  hie  dicet  aliquis. 


268 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


what  is  not  in  itself  improbable,  that  the  mode,  the  how,  occasioned 
the  principal  difficulty  to  the  speculating  Corinthians  ;  that  the  in- 
conceivableness,  the  impossibility  of  the  resuscitation  of  a  dead  and 
wasted  corpse,  was,  perhaps,  the  great  stone  of  stumbling.  Two 
questions  are  suggested.  In  the  first  place,  how  are  the  dead  raised, 
and  secondly,  with  what  bodies  do  they  come  forth  from  the  tomb  ? 
In  the  following  verses,  the  apostle  gives  the  answer.  To  hear  this 
answer  and  nothing  else,  will  be  our  business.  For  this  once  he 
has  made  the  task  very  easy  for  us.  The  passage,  so  far  as  the 
meaning  of  the  words  is  concerned,  is  one  of  the  least  difficult  in  his 
epistle.  Of  all  the  important  doctrinal  passages,  it  is  the  most  readi- 
ly comprehended. 

V.  36 — 41.  Thou  fool !  That  which  thou  sowest  is  not  quicken- 
ed, except  it  die ;  and  in  respect  to  that  which  thou  sowest — thou 
dost  not  sow  the  body  which  shall  be,  but  a  mere  grain,  possibly  of 
wheat,  or  of  some  other  grain ;  but  God  giveth  to  it  a  body  as  it 
pleaseth  him,  and  to  each  of  the  seeds  its  own  body.  All  flesh  is 
not  the  same  flesh,  but  there  is  one  kind  of  flesh  of  men ;  and  there 
is  another  flesh  of  beasts ;  and  another  of  birds ;  and  another  of 
fishes.  And  there  are  bodies  celestial,  and  bodies  terrestrial ;  but 
the  splendor  of  the  celestial  is  one,  and  the  splendor  of  the  terrestrial 
another.  There  is  one  splendor  of  the  sun,  and  another  splendor 
of  the  moon,  and  another  splendor  of  the  stars,  for  one  star  difTereth 
from  another  in  splendor. 

The  subject  is  illustrated  by  analogies.  The  address  by  the  term, 
aq>Qiav,  '  unskilful,'  1  foolish,'  and  the  subsequent  thou,  av,  express  a 
certain  disapprobation,  in  that  an  individual  could  entertain  a  doubt 
on  a  question  whose  solution  had  been  already  given  in  the  analogies 
of  nature.  The  first  thought  is  this  :  The  seed-corn  which  is  depos- 
ited in  the  ground,  can  reach  a  nobler  and  higher  life,  only  through 
death.  The  change  which  takes  place  in  the  corn  in  the  earth,  the 
dissolution,  the  decomposition,  whereby  it  ceases  to  exist  as  a  corn, 
is  termed  its  death.  In  like  manner  Christ  represents  it,  John  12: 
24.  Application.  Man  can  attain  to  a  nobler  life  only  through  the 
separating  process  of  death.  Second  thought.  What  is  sown,  and 
what  rises,  is  not  the  same  body.  This  leads  to  the  application. 
The  body  which  is  raised  is  not  the  same  with  that  which  died  and 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


269 


was  buried,  but  it  is  a  different  body.  In  how  far  it  is  different, — 
whether  it  be  formed  from  the  germs  or  parts  of  the  old  body,  or, 
as  the  plant  which  springs  up,  indeed,  from  the  seed,  but  yet  borrows 
its  constituent  parts  from  the  surrounding  earth,  and  is  composed  of 
entirely  different  elements,1— cannot  be  determined  from  the  apos- 
tle's words.  Third  thought.  God  gives  to  each  germ  its  own  body, 
as  it  pleases  him.  The  whole  change  leads  back  to  the  power  and 
good  pleasure  of  God,  which  should  also  cause  man  to  feel  that  he 
ought  not  to  rest  in  his  own  thoughts  and  speculations,  while  he  is 
conscious  that  his  destiny  is  in  good  hands.  Fourth  thought.  When 
God  is  said  to  give  to  each  seed  its  own  body,  it  appears  still  to  re- 
fer to  this,  that  Paul  expected  a  difference  among  those  raised,  be- 
cause he  could  not  refer  to  the  difference  between  the  earthly  bodies 
and  those  raised,  unless  he  dropped  the  image  altogether.  It  is  pos- 
sible, notwithstanding,  that  while  effecting  a  transition  to  a  topic 
somewhat  new,  he  would  not  be  careful  to  preservers  allegory.  In 
vs.  39 — 41,  he  seeks  by  an  induction  of  particulars  to  lead  the  reader 
to  the  conclusion,  that  there  being  such  a  manifold  variety  of  bodies, 
it  would  truly  be  a  mark  of  folly  to  imagine  that  there  could  be  no 
other  bodies  for  man  but  these  existing,  terrestrial  ones.  He  first 
points  to  the  great  differences  between  the  organic  structures  of  this 
earth ;  then  to  the  varieties  among  the  earthly  and  the  heavenly  bo- 
dies, for  example,  the  visible  luminaries,  the  sun,  moon  and  stars, 
and  flnall}',  to  the  striking  variety  in  the  splendor  of  these  luminaries. 

V.  42 — 45.  So  also  shall  be  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  ;  it  [the 
body]  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in  incorruption  ;  it  is  sown 
in  dishonor,  it  is  raised  in  glory  ;  it  is  sown  in  weakness,  it  is  raised 
in  power. 

The  application  is  shortly  this  :  1  Even  so  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence between  the  bodies  which  are  laid  in  the  tomb,  and  those  which 
shall  rise  from  it.1  This  difference  is  illustrated  in  several  distinct 
considerations,  by  a  series  of  antitheses.  The  subject  is  indeed  not 
formally  announced,  and  this  is  very  suitable,  in  respect  to  a  topic 
like  that  of  the  body,  aatfia,  or  rather  of  two  different  bodies,  the  one 
existing  before,  and  the  other  after  the  resurrection.  To  the  former 
are  attributed  three  predicates,  corruption,  dishonor,  weakness  ;  to 
1  To  which  2  Cor.  5:  1  seq.  seems  to  point. 


270 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


the  latter,  three,  immortality,  glory,  power.  These  are  indicated, 
respectively,  by  the  opposite  terms,  natural  body,  and  spiritual  body. 
The  natural  body,  as  already  pointed  out,  1  Cor.  2:  14,  is  such  as  is 
appropriate  to  the  yujpfc  the  animal  soul,  the  life,  anima,  as  it  occurs 
in  the  three  terms,  1  Thess.  5:  23.1  The  natural  body  is  fitted  to  be 
an  abode  and  an  instrument  for  this  animal  life,  being  earthly  and 
sensual  like  this  life  ;  in  its  nature  auoxixov  ;  in  short  it  is  what  experi- 
ence shows  it  to  be  in  daily  experience,  where  the  ipv/tj  is  the  predom- 
inant principle.  Thus  also,  the  spiritual  body  is  such  as  is  fitted  to 
the  nvtvjia,  the  higher,  the  spiritual  nature  of  man,  being  such  in  its 
material  and  its  form,  as  qualifies  it  to  serve  the  spirit  in  its  destined 
higher  and  nobler  existence,  which  first  begins  in  perfection  when 
the  spirit  is  released  from  the  body  of  death,  Rom.  7:  24,  and  at  the 
same  time  from  the  ipi*/?],  the  animal  life,  which  is  probably  regarded 
by  the  apostle  as  not  destined  to  a  continued  existence.  A  clear  de- 
scription of  such  a  body,  Paul  was  as  liltle  able  to  give,  as  we  our- 
selves. He  naturally  contemplated  it  as  made  of  finer  and  more 
delicate  materials  than  this  earthly  body.  Besides  this  mere,  com- 
parative indication  of  resemblance,  he  has  asserted  nothing  in  respect 
to  its  nature,  which  was,  indeed,  impossible,  and  still  remains  so. 
Paul  has  nothing  to  do  with  all  those  speculations  which  have  sub- 
sequently come  in,  and  about  which  the  greatest  pains  have  been 
expended,  in  order  to  show,  that  they  are  authorized  by  his  language. 
He  contents  himself  with  a  single  thing,  which  he  makes  it  necessa- 
ry for  man  to  believe,  namely,  that  the  new  life  is  a  purer,  better 
life  than  this  present  one  ;  it  is  a  life  of  the  spirit.  Hence  that  new 
organization  which  he  gives  us  reason  to  hope  for — (how  far  is 
known  only  to  God) — an  organization  fitted  to  such  a  life,  not  to  im- 
pede, but  to  aid  its  movements.  We  also  stop  on  this  point,  with 
the  apostle.  He  appears,  however,  to  be  solicitous,  lest  it  should  be 
further  inquired,  whence  he  knew  anything  of  the  spiritual  body. 
In  order  to  anticipate  this  inquiry,  he  announces  the  general  propo- 
sition, 4  there  is  a  natural  body,  and  there  is  a  spiritual  body.'  Hence 
the  conclusion, '  now  the  first  is  undeniable  ;  so  also  must  be  the 
second.'    As  a  ground  of  the  proposition  in  question,  there  appears 

1  [1  Thess.  5:  23,  to  nvtrfia  xai  i)  xpvyr/  y.al  to  aa>fj,a}  where  ttvsv/uu,  the 
rational  part  is  distinguished  from  yvyj,  the  vital  part,  and  both  from  rc 
ouifia,  corresponding  to  flub.  »SS  .  — Tr.J 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


271 


to  lie  a  more  general  thought,  namely,  a  necessary  opposition  or 
contrast,  whereby  the  existence  of  the  one  is  a  condition  of  the  exis- 
tence of  the  other.  To  the  metaphysical  proof,  a  biblical  one  is  sub- 
joined, which  rests  on  a  very  free  use  and  carrying  out  of  the  thought 
in  Gen.  2:  7, '  Adam  was  made  a  living  soul.'1  The  apostle  then 
annexes  a  commentary.  The  first  man2  here,  as  in  verse  20,  Adam, 
is  presented  as  the  head  of  a  race,  and  in  opposition  to  the  last 
Adam.3  He  then  explains  the  words, '  living  soul,'  etc.,  as  a  mere 
physical  man,  animated  being.  Following  the  principle  of  contrast 
expressed  in  verse  44,  he  connects,  without  any  occasion  from  the 
passage  in  Genesis,  the  second  member  of  the  sentence, 4  the  last 
Adam  a  quickening  spirit,' — so  connected,  indeed,  that  with  the 
words, '  it  is  written,'  must  also  be  referred  those  words  which  are 
merely  his  own.  That  the  last  Adam  can  mean  no  other  than 
Christ,  is  clear.  He  is  named  Adam,  since  that  appellation,  by  com- 
mon usage,  signifies  the  first  man,  and  Christ  is  the  first  in  his  series, 
as  Adam  was  in  the  earlier.  Why  la^ttiog,  and  not  devTsgog,  as  in 
verse  47,  is  employed,  we  cannot  certainly  determine  ;  it  is,  possi- 
bly, with  reference  to  the  fact,  that  he  had  come  into  the  world,  iv 
xatQolg  egxutoiq.  He  is  nvs  vfxa  in  contrast  with  ipv/rj.  I  venture  not 
to  determine  whether  the  apostle  would  describe  him  here,  in  rela- 
tion to  the  whole  of  his  existence,  or  whether  he  refers  only  to  the 
period  since  the  resurrection,  where  then  the  ifivero  elg  nvevfia  may 
point  to  this  his  first  entrance  on  a  spiritual  life.4  But  an  antithesis  lies 
in  the  L,(aonoiovv.  The  first  Adam  was  made  simply  a  living  being  ; 
he  had  a  life,  indeed,  but  it  was  merely  a  tyv/n,  communicated  only 
from  without.  The  last  Adam,  however,  since  he  is  a  spirit,  and 
the  spirit  especially  giveth  life,  2  Cor.  3:  6,  has  not  only  life,  but  he 
creates  life.  A  definite  object  is  not  to  be  sought  in  Qwonouovv,  for 
the  thought  is  altogether  general.  But  it  admits  of  a  particular  ap- 
plication, in  that  he,  as  the  special  source  of  life,  is  also  the  source 

1  ens  WB3*>  fi«r!  ^rri  .  2  6  ttqojtos  avd-Qomos. 

3  toyarog  d§d/u. 

4  The  last  is  the  more  probable,  since,  if  Paul  had  contemplated  him  as  a 
'spirit,'  during  h'13  abode  on  earth,  he  would  not  only  have  made  him  very 
unlike  his  redeemed  brethren,  but  he  would  hardly  have  avoided  the  error  of 
the  Docetae,  of  which  in  his  epistles  there  is  not  the  most  distant  trace,  as 
it  was  foreign  to  his  entire  intellectual  nature.  See  Note  I,  at  the  end  of 
this  Article. 


212 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


of  life  for  believers,  and  indeed,  as  the  connection  teaches,  of  a  sim- 
ilar, spiritual  life.  That  the  proposition,  in  itself,  contains  no  real 
proof,  hardly  needs  a  remark. 

V.  44 — 49.  But  not  first  that  which  was  spiritual,  but  that  which 
was  natural,  then  that  which  was  spiritual.  The  first  man  was  of 
the  earth,  earthy  ;  the  second  man  was  the  Lord,  from  heaven. 
As  is  the  earthy,  such  also  are  they  who  are  earthy,  and  as  is  the 
heavenly,  such  also  are  they  who  are  heavenly.  And  as  we  have 
borne  the  image  of  the  earthy,  so  also  shall  we  bear  the  image  of 
the  heavenly. 

The  question  is  brought  nearer :  4  If  now  there  is  a  spiritual  life, 
and  that  so  much  higher  and  nobler  than  the  present  earthly  one, 
why  do  not  we,  men,  immediately  enter  upon  that  life  ?  Why  do 
we  first  pass  through  this  natural  life,  with  all  its  troubles  and  sorrows, 
with  the  necessity,  also,  of  entering  upon  that  other  life,  by  the  bitter, 
separating  process  of  death  ?'  This  question  Paul  appears  to  have 
foreseen,  and  to  have  met  by  the  following  considerations— a  proof 
how  thoroughly  he  had  considered  his  subject,  and  how  fully  he 
had  weighed  it,  in  all  its  aspects.  He  leads  us  to  the  point  by  an 
«U«,  but.  In  this  word  we  have  an  allusion  to  the  thought,  that, 
spiritual  existence  is,  indeed,  of  a  better  and  nobler  nature.  This, 
however,  cannot  be  the  first  in  order.  I  consider  the  proposition  of 
the  46th  verse  as  entirely  general ;  hence  I  do  not  take  the  words  as 
epithets,  in  the  sense  of  adjectives,  but  rather  as  substantives, 4  the 
spiritual,'  '  the  natural.'  Paul  now  lays  it  down  as  a  general  law  in 
the  development  of  life,  that  the  spiritual  succeeds  the  natural ;  the 
former  proceeds  from  the  latter.  It  then  follows  that  our  life  must 
observe  that  gradation,  which  he  now,  in  verse  47,  points  out  in  the 
heads  of  the  respective  series,  Adam  and  Christ.  The  first  man  is 
of  the  earth,  as  Gen.  2:  7  announces  him  to  have  been  at  his  crea- 
tion ;  and  hence,  being  fashioned  from  the  earth,  he  is  earthy, 
xo'ixog,  that  is,  he  resembles  the  material  from  which  he  is  formed, 
and  is  terrestrial,  like  that  which  he  brings  with  him.  The  second 
man,  Christ,  is  of  heaven,  l|  ovgavov,  for  this  is  to  be  recognized  as 
the  only  genuine  text.  He  is  descended  from  heaven,  and'  hence, 
(what  is  here  remarkably  omitted,  though  presupposed  in  verse  48,) 
he  is  heavenly,  inovodviog,  a  heavenly  man.   And  now  as  the  head 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


273 


of  the  race  is,  so  must  be  the  race,  which  is  descended  from  him ; 
thus  he  adds,  in  conclusion,  though  without  the  particle  of  compari- 
son, to,  1  as  is  the  earthy,'  etc.  Meaning  :  '  The  human  race,  springing 
from  Adam,  must  be,  in  virtue  of  their  descent,  like  their  head  ;  as 
Adam  was  earthy,  they  must  be  the  same  ;  they  have  only  an 
earthy  body,  life,  existence ;  on  the  other  hand,  those  connected 
with  the  heavenly  man,  must  be  like  their  head  ;  they  must  be  hea- 
venly, as  he  is.  We  ought  not,  however,  to  understand  what  the 
apostle  here  says  of  the  two  races,  as  if  he  meant  different  series  of 
individuals  ;  both  may  meet  in  the  same  person.  As  a  son  of  Adam, 
every  one  is  first  earthy ;  as  connected  with  Christ,  the  believer  will 
be  subsequently  heavenly.  This  is  indicated  in  verse  49  :  4  and  as 
we  have  borne  the  image  of  the  earthy,  we  shall  also  bear  the  image 
of  the  heavenly.'  The  subject  here  concerns  believers  only,  not  all 
men  in  general,  for  of  them  Paul  here  asserts  nothing.  He  uses  the 
Preterite,  since  he  stood  in  spirit  on  a  point  of  time,  where  what  he 
describes  comes  to  an  end.  In  the  concluding  member,  the  authority 
is,  indeed,  most  decidedly  in  favor  of  the  subjunctive  (pogiawfisv,  re- 
ceived by  Lachmann,  but  the  sense  and  connection  are  altogether 
opposed  to  it.  An  exhortation  we  cannot  here  have.  The  course 
of  thought  begun,  and  hitherto  carried  on,  in  a  calm  and  reflective 
manner,  Paul  would  conclude  in  the  same  way.  He  cannot  have  so 
greatly  erred,  as  here  at  once  to  break  off,  and  pass  over  to  an  ad- 
monition. Either  a  mere  oversight  originated  the  co  in  the  first  MSS., 
and  from  these  it  passed  into  a  great  number  of  the  authorities,  or 
individuals  misled,  possibly,  by  verse  50,  have  not  understood  him. 
The  Future  only  could  have  proceeded  from  Paul.  He  speaks  of 
the  confidence  that  believers,  as  they  have  been  like  the  physical 
man,  Adam,  will,  also,  when  they  have  become  spiritually  one  with 
Christ,  bear  his  image  in  their  new,  spiritual  life. 

V.  50.  But  this  I  say,  brethren,  that  flesh  and  blood  cannot  inhe- 
rit the  kingdom  of  God,  neither  can  corruption  inherit  incorruption. 

The  hope  expressed  in  the  last  verse,  however,  demands  a  limita- 
tion. There  were,  perhaps,  those  in  Corinth,  that  thought  it  would 
be  still  better,  if  all  could  live  till  the  advent  of  the  Lord,  and  enter, 
as  they  were,  into  the  kingdom  of  immortality.  In  consequence, 
Paul  further  instructs  them,  first,  that  a  change  was  necessary,  and 
35 


271 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


secondly,  how  this  should  relate  to  those  who  would  be  alive  at  the 
time  of  the  Lord's  coming.  Both  points  are  considered  in  what  fol- 
lows. First,  we  have  the  explanation  of  the  impossibility  of  enter- 
ing on  the  future  life  with  these  existing  bodies.  '  Now  this  I  say,' 
is  an  intimation,  that  the  previous  remark  required  a  limitation : 
1  We  shall  all  bear  the  image  of  the  heavenly  Adam.  But  this  I 
say,'  etc.,  that  is, '  I  cannot  still  withhold  from  you  the  remark,'  etc. 
The  sense  of  the  verse  is  simply,  1  this  mortal  body  cannot  share  in 
an  everlasting,  unchangeable  life.'1  He  first  calls  it 1  flesh  and  blood,' 
then  corruption,'  i\  cp&oQct,  which  is  equivalent  to  to  epdetgrov.  He 
thus  indicates  the  absurdity  in  which  a  contrary  expectation  would 
be  involved.    He  now  proceeds  to  the  last  topic. 

V.  51 — 53.  Behold  !  a  mystery  I  show  you  ;  we  shall  not  all 
sleep,  but  we  all  shall  be  changed,  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  in  the  last  trumpet,  for  the  trumpet  shall  sound,  and  the  dead 
shall  be  raised  incorruptible,  and  we  shall  be  changed  ;  for  this  cor- 
ruptible must  put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal  must  put  on  im- 
mortality. 

Paul  now  discloses  to  those  who  should  be  alive  at  the  coming  of 
the  Lord,  the  prospect  of  a  change,  which  shall  fit  them,  as  well 
as  the  dead,  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  He  announces  it  as  a 
mystery,  in  the  same  manner  as  he  announced  the  future  restoration  of 
the  Jews,  to  the  Romans.2  Consequently,  it  is  in  the  highest  degree 
probable,  that  he  was  informed  of  it  by  a  special  revelation.  Per- 
haps an  arbitrary,  doctrinal  caprice  has  been  nowhere  more  allowed 
than  in  respect  to  the  text  of  this  clause :  '  We  shall  not  all  sleep, 
but  we  shall  all  be  changed.'  It  is  clear  that  Paul  could  have  writ- 
ten nothing  but  what  the  received  text  presents,  if  not  altogether  ac- 
cording to  the  present  arrangement  of  the  words,  still  certainly  in 
the  sense  implied  in  them,  namely  :  '  we  shall  not  all  indeed  die,  but 
we  shall  all  experience  the  change  indispensable  to  our  entrance  into 
the  everlasting  kingdom  of  the  Lord.'  This  meaning  is  made  out  in 
the  fullest  manner  by  verse  52  ;  and  it  agrees  most  perfectly  with 
1  Thess.  4:  17.  But  it  had  a  consequence  which  does  not  agree 
with  the  prediction.  Paul  died,  the  other  apostles  died,  all  their  con- 
temporaries died,  and  still  Paul  must  have  uttered  the  truth.  That 


1  Pomp.  1  Cor.  7:  19. 


2  Rom.  11:  25 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


275 


he  gave  himself  up  to  an  expectation,  which  the  event  contradicted, 
was  a  thought  which  the  times  would  not  bear.  When  it  was  pro- 
posed, (which  was  certainly  very  early  done),  to  alter  the  text, 
merely  to  transpose  a  little  word,  a  negative,  and  when  all  this  was 
done,  and  Paul  was  made  thereby  to  contradict  himself,  the  words 
also  disagreeing  entirely  with  the  context, — these  were  points  which 
created  no  trouble  for  the  interpreters  of  that  day.  Thus  the  change 
became  universal.  Still,  those  interpreters  possessed  the  MSS., 
with  the  genuine  reading ;  but  these  remained  unconsidered,  and  the 
wonder  is  that  the  true  reading  has  still  come  down  to  us  in  some  of 
them.  Whether  the  negative  retained  its  original  place  in  the  text, 
we  indeed  do  not  certainly  know  ;  that  it  did,  is  indeed  possible  ;  it 
might  have  been  subjected  to  various  changes,  perhaps  thrown  out, 
and  again  inserted  ;J  but  in  the  end,  retaining  its  place  improperly. 
Yet  where  it  stands,  it  gives  the  correct  sense.2  The  change,  of 
which  Paul  furthermore  speaks,  refers  not  only  to  the  living,  whom 
he  indicated  in  verse  52,  but  also  to  the  dead,  who  would  likewise 
have  a  new,  spiritual  body,  instead  of  that  which  had  decayed  in  the 
tomb.  And  thus  navTsg,  as  repeated,  may  be  taken  in  the  most  gen- 
eral sense,  namely,  of  all  those  who  entertain  a  hope  of  the  resur- 
rection, that  is,  believers.  The  change,  indeed,  will  occur  in  '  a  mo- 
ment,' 1  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,'  with  inconceivable  rapidity. 
The  word  axo\iov  means  indivisible,  here  an  indivisible,  minute  point 
of  time.  For  a  particular  reason,  on  account  of  which  Paul  men- 
tions the  great  rapidity  with  which  the  event  would  happen,  we  need 
not  inquire ;  the  less  so,  as  it  was  manifest,  that  this  was  a  circum- 
stance embraced  in  the  expectation  of  the  Jews,  and  Paul  here  ob- 
viously entered  somewhat  more  deeply  into  the  subject  than  was 
absolutely  demanded.  Thus,  likewise,  he  subjoins  as  a  mere  acces- 
sory circumstance,  the  words, 4  in  the  last  trumpet,'  and  as  a  matter 
well  known.  He  then,  as  it  should  seem,  reflects,  that  possibly  his 
readers  would  be  less  familiar  with  it,  and  accordingly  he  confirms  it, 

ov 

1  Cod.  A.  furnishes  an  instance  with  its  text,  ov ndvreg  fiiv  xoifiTj- 
&7io6fjve&a  ov  Ttdvxsg  §e  aXX. 

2  Thus  we  may  say  that  the  genuine  Greek  text  is  this,  xov/^y&yoojLvs&a 
ndvrsg  fisv  ov.  Plato's  writings  furnish  a  multitude  of  examples  of  a  simi- 
lar construction.  Thus  Paul  could  have  used  the  words  n.  fi.  ov  xovfi7j&, 
in  this  sense  :  <  die  we  shall  indeed  not  all,  but,'  etc. 


276 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


by  adding, 1  for  it  shall  sound.'1  The  word,  i<jxuT%  1  last,'  as  Billroth 
has  correctly  remarked,  does  not  mean  that  there  are  to  be  several 
blasts  of  a  trumpet  on  the  final  day,  and  that  this  was,  in  that  sense, 
the  last  which  should  be  blown,  but  simply  that  it  would  be  the 
trumpet  of  the  last  day,  after  which  no  more  would  be  heard. 
Then  follows  the  resurrection  and  the  transformation  of  the  living, 
the  certainty  of  which  is  again  declared  by  the  remark,  that  it  was 
necessary  that  the  corruptible  should  put  on  incorruption,  and  the 
mortal,  immortality. 

V.  54 — 57.  Now  when  this  corruptible  shall  have  put  on  incor- 
ruption, and  this  mortal,  immortality,  then  shall  come  to  pass  the 
saying  which  is  written  :  '  Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory ! 
Where,  O  death !  is  thy  victory  ?  Where,  O  death !  thy  sting  ?' 
The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law.  But 
thanks  be  to  God  who  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 

The  discussion  is  concluded.  The  apostle  has  arrived  at  the  point, 
when  his  spirit,  standing  at  the  portals  of  eternity,  can  think  of  noth- 
ing more  than  that  for  it,  finiteness  and  mortality  have  ceased.  His 
own  soul  is  now  full  of  the  elevation  and  glory  of  the  object,  and  as 
a  fine  conclusion,  there  flows  from  his  pen,  a  brief  but  striking  tri- 
umphal song.  He  seems  to  delight  in  these  songs  at  the  close  of 
his  more  important  sections.2  The  final  clause  of  verse  54,  is  a  re- 
petition of  verse  53,  in  another  form,  and  as  pathetic,  fitted  to  affect 
the  heart.  In  the  conclusion  of  the  verse,  he  adds,  '  then  shall  come 
to  pass  the  saying  which  is  written,'  or  as  one  might  say  with  truth, 
4  what  is  written,'3  namely, '  death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory.'  This 
is  a  free  translation  of  Isa.  25:  8,  '  He  shall  swallow  up  death  for- 
ever.'4 Paul  has  changed  the  active  voice  of  the  verb  in  the  original, 

1  A  definite  subject  of  the  verb  aa).niasi}  Winer,  in  Gram.  p.  471,  has  not 
thought  to  be  necessary  in  this  passage,  as  Billroth  seems  to  imagine,  espe- 
cially because  he  does  not  cite  the  passage  itself,  but  simply  wishes  to  indi- 
cate, by  the  term  which  he  has  quoted.  6  aahriyn)?,  the  origin  of  this  im- 
personal mode  of  expression. 

2  Comp.  Rom.  8:  11  seq.  11:  33  seq. 

3  A  similar  expression  is  found  in  Plato's  Fhaedon,  p.  72,  C.  rayc  av  to 
roO  ' ' Ava^ayoQOv  ytyovos  tftj9  opov  ndvra  y^/uara. 

P1SS.V  r^.'S-  9\"2  .   Sept.  narinuv  v  ftdvarog  icyvoag, 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


277 


into  the  passive,  and  he  translates  '  forever,1  by  4  in  victory,'1  as  the 
Seventy  do  in  other  passages.  Still,  verse  57,  doubtless,  shows  that 
he  viewed  vlxog  as  equivalent  to  viv.r\.  The  meaning  is  clearly, '  that 
death  shall  be  utterly  destroyed  and  annihilated.'  The  following 
words, '  where,  O  death  !  thy  sting,'  are  from  Hos.  13:  14.2  The 
apostle  subjoins  a  brief  comment.  4  The  sting  of  death,'  says  he, 
4  is  sin.'  I  cannot  agree,  as  Billroth  does,  with  the  explanation  of 
Schottgen,  who  supposes,  that  the  sting  of  death,  alludes  to  the  goad 
with  which  one  drives  his  team,  when  he  cultivates  his  field  ;  but, 
with  others,  I  consider  the  sting  as  the  instrument  with  which  death, 
here  personified,  destroys  men.  This  is  sin,  for  were  there  no  sin, 
then,  according  to  Paul,  death  would  never  have  any  power  over 
mankind  ;  it  would  be  harmless,  as  an  insect  without  a  sting.  But 
if  death  was  to  have  no  more  power,  then  must  sin  be  abolished,  and 
to  that,  the  apostle  particularly  directs  the  attention  of  his  readers, 
in  his  comment.  Further, 4  the  strength  of  sin,'  that  which  gives  it 
its  power, 4  is  the  law.1  The  meaning  of  this  may  be  learned  from 
Rom.  7:  5,  7  seq.  But  why  are  these  words  subjoined  ?  A  logical 
necessity  for  them  does  not  exist ;  but  they  are  rather  dictated  by 
the  personal  feelings  of  the  apostle.  What  difficulty  the  law  had 
occasioned  him  during  his  life  !  In  the  first  place,  in  an  inward 
sense,  when  he  was  in  subjection  to  it ;  then,  outwardly,  when  he 
met  with  opponents  of  his  free  salvation.  Hence  he  cannot  think  of 
happiness,  without  an  entire  absence  of  the  law,  and  thus  he  con- 
cludes, 4  if  death  shall  be  abolished,  then  sin  must  be  destroyed  ;  and 
if  sin  is  to  be  destroyed,  then  there  can  be  no  more  law.'  He 
teaches  his  readers  to  recognize,  in  the  passage  from  Hosea,  a  pre- 
diction of  a  state  of  perfect  sinlessness  and  freedom.  He  then  con- 
cludes with  thanks  to  God,  who  giveth  the  victory  through  Christ. 

V.  58.  Wherefore,  my  beloved  brethren,  be  steadfast  and  immova- 
ble, always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord,  knowing  that  your 
labor  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord. 

This  verse  contains  a  concluding  exhortation,  drawn  from  the  cer- 
tainty which  was  now  secured  in  respect  to  the  future  life  of  the 

1  m^:V  by  8is  vcxog. 

3  y*,WB  ^3t2j?  Tit*  rnw  ^ns  .    In  like  manner  the  Sept.  nov  ?j 

dixy  oov,  d"dvaT£  ;  nov  to  nevtQOV  oov}  a§i]. 


278 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


Corinthian  believers.  They  should  be  steadfast1  and  immovable  in 
their  convictions,  or,  more  generally,  in  their  belief  in  Christianity. 
They  ought,  also,  to  be  perseveringly  zealous  in  the  work  of  the 
Lord,  inasmuch  as  they  knew  that  their  labor  would  not  be  fruitless, 
as  it  would  be,  if  there  were  no  resurrection.  1  In  the  Lord,'  be- 
cause they  were  united  with  him,  and  were  members  of  his  body. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY.2 

BY  J.  P;  LANGE. 

In  the  third  Number  of  the  Theological  Studies  and  Criticisms, 
for  the  year  1835,  Prof.  J.  Miiller  has  given  a  very  instructive  exam- 
ination of  the  essays  and  reviews  of  Weisse,  Goschel  and  Fichte, 
which  were  called  forth  by  Richter's  treatise  entitled,  'The  Doctrine 
of  the  Last  Things.'  The  criticisms  which  the  respected  author  has 
occasionally  suggested,  in  relation  to  the  views  of  these  excellent 
and  estimable  thinkers,  are  important.  He  has  shown,  for  example, 
in  opposition  to  Goschel,  that  the  Hegelian  philosophy,  according  to 
the  earlier  representations  of  its  adherents,  certainly  occasions  the 
denial  of  man's  personal,  continued  existence  after  death.  Contra- 
ry to  the  views  of  Weisse,  he  has  proved  that  the  Scriptures  author- 
ize us  to  distinguish  the  doctrine  of  man's  continued,  personal  exist- 
ence from  the  doctrine  of  future,  everlasting  happiness.  Against 
Fichte  he  maintains,  that  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  is  not  connec- 
ted with  the  close  of  life,  but  with  the  end  of  the  world.  Professor 
Miiller  very  readily  admits,  on  the  other  hand,  whatever  there  may 
be  that  is  new  or  profound  in  the  contributions,  which  these  distin- 
guished authors  have  made  to  the  completion  of  the  christian  escha- 
tology.3   ^ 

1  See  the  word  idqcuot,  1  Cor.  7:  37. 

2  See  Note  J,  at  the  close  of  this  Article,  which  the  reader  is  requested  to 
peruse  before  examining  the  remarks  of  Lange. 

3  See  Note  K,  at  the  close  of  this  Article. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


279 


The  writer  of  these  pages  begs  leave  to  add  some  remarks  on  a 
sentiment  which  Miiller  has  expressed  in  connection  with  the  phrase, 
p.  778, '  resurrection  of  the  flesh.'1  Miiller  advances  the  sentiment 
in  the  observations  in  which  he  approves  of  Fichte's  notion  of  an  or- 
ganic identity  in  man's  corporeal  nature.  The  idea  is  certainly  a 
beautiful  one,  and  viewed  negatively  is  quite  obvious.  It  may  be  thus 
indicated, '  The  human  body  cannot  be,  in  its  essential  features,  that 
mass  of  matter  which  is  in  a  constant  process  of  flux  and  of  self- 
renovation — which  was  originally  foreign  to  it,  was  connected  with  it 
only  in  the  way  of  assimilation,  and  which  was  forced  to  aid  in  its 
organization.' 

But  what  opinion  must  we  form  of  this  organic  identity  in  its  pos- 
itive aspect  ?  Besides  the  materials  which  compose  the  body,  noth- 
ing will  remain,  except  a  mere  law  or  power  in  the  human  spirit,  by 
means  of  which  it  can  acquire  a  definite  corporeal  organization,  fit- 
ted to  its  nature,  both  in  its  internal  operations  and  its  outward 
sphere  of  action.  At  all  events,  nothing  will  remain  but  the  figure, 
or  ideal  image  of  the  body,  which  is  contained  in  the  spirit.  Miiller, 
in  the  meanwhile,  having  adopted  this  opinion  of  Fichte,  endeavors 
to  point  out  its  agreement  with  the  Bible  :  "  It  is  not  the  flesh,"  says 
the  inspired  word,  "  it  is  not  the  mass  of  earthy  materials,  but  it  is 
the  body,  it  is  the  organic  whole,  of  which  the  resurrection  is  predi- 
cated. The  organism,  or  organic  structure,  viewed  as  the  living 
form,  which  appropriates  matter  to  itself,  is  the  real  body,  which, 
when  glorified,  becomes  the  spiritual  body.  Paul  denies  all  gross 
representations  of  the  resurrection  and  of  the  human  body,  when  he 
says, '  flesh  and  blood  cannot  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.' "  The 
author,  after  quoting  another  passage  in  proof  of  his  position,  re- 
marks :  "  It  is,  therefore,  to  be  regarded  as  a  very  erroneous  mode 
of  expression,  when  we  inculcate  a  definite  resurrection  of  the  flesh, 
instead  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  as  is  done  in  the  oldest  rule 
of  faith — the  so-called  Apostolic  Symbol." 

In  opposition  to  these  views,  we  submit  the  following  considera- 
tions. By  the  term,  avaaiuaig  aaqxoq,  we  are  not,  indeed,  to  under- 
stand the  existing,  earthy  substance,  the  mass  of  matter  belonging  to 
the  terrestrial  man.  We  need  not  do  this  in  order  to  retain,  without 
variation,  the  phraseology  in  the  Symbol  above  quoted.  Although 
we  should  fully  admit  the  notion  of  organic  identity,  we  must  still 
3  See  Note  L,  at  the  close  of  this  Article. 


280 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


receive,  as  a  consequence,  a  resurrection  of  the  flesh.  The  author 
in  agreement  with  Fichte,  regards  the  body  as 4  the  organism,' 1  or- 
ganic structure,'  or  4  the  form,'  which  brings  under  subjection,  and 
appropriates  to  itself,  the  corporeal  substance.  But  how  can  a  phy- 
sical organization  exist  without  the  matter  which  it  organizes  ?  Can 
the  figure  of  a  body  amount  to  anything  more  than  a  phantom,  like 
the  notion  of  the  Docetae,  if  destitute  of  the  material,  by  which  it 
was  first  built  into  a  substantial  structure  ?  So  far,  a  resurrection 
of  the  body,  without  a  resurrection  of  the  flesh,  is  not  conceivable. 
Could  a  bodily  organism,  or  organic  structure,  be  united,  at  some 
future  time,  to  a  purely  spiritual,  disembodied  existence,  there  being 
no  glorified  body  in  order  to  give  significance  to  it,  as  Miiller  seems 
to  imagine,  then  we  should  conclude  decidedly,  that  a  resurrection 
of  the  body  would  never  once  be  named  ;  for  a  body  without  a  sub- 
stance or  a  material,  is  a  mere  form.  Now  the  material  of  the  body 
is  the  flesh. 

If  we  adhere  to  the  theory  of  an  organic  identity,  we  must  of  ne- 
cessity retain  the  material  in  which  this  organic  identity  can  develop 
itself.  The  organic,  vital  power  assumes  a  new  material,  so  soon  as 
it  lays  aside,  in  the  course  of  nature,  its  old.  Without  this,  the  no- 
tion of  a  bodily  organism  or  structure  cannot  be  maintained.  It  is 
for  this  reason,  that  I  have  endeavored  to  gain  a  more  exact  view  of 
the  idea  above  indicated,  namely,  a  law  or  vital  energy  in  man's 
spirit,  by  means  of  which  it  acquires  a  corporeal  structure  fitted  pre- 
cisely to  its  nature,  either  in  its  internal  development,  or  its  outward 
sphere  of  action. 

There  may,  however,  be  imagined  more  appropriately,  a  kind  of 
organic  identity,  as  an  ideal  form  of  the  body,  contained  in  the  spirit, 
or  as  a  tendency  of  the  spirit  towards  the  assumption  of  a  body. 

This  feature  in  the  human  constitution,  has  a  more  general  ground 
in  the  fact,  that  we  are  inclined  to  clothe  every  spiritual  object  in  a 
corporeal  form.  Light  is  the  garment  of  the  Deity  ;  the  creation  is 
his  house  ;  his  fullness  dwells  in  Christ  bodily.  The  Word  became 
flesh.  The  angels  are  enveloped  in  winds  and  fiery  flames.1  No 
finite  spirit,  as  such,  can  float  into  the  infinite ;  it  must  be  found 

1  The  interpreters  have  not  rightly  apprehended  the  passage,  Fs.  104:  4, 
whether  they  give  the  explanation,  '  He  maketh  his  angels  like  winds,'  etc. 
or  the  reverse.  [See,  however,  Prof.  Stuart  on  Heb.  1:  7;  also,  the  note 
of  De  Wette  on  Ps.  104:  4.— Tr.] 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


281 


somewhere  and  be  formed  somehow.  In  its  inner  life,  in  the  central 
point  of  its  union  with  God,  it  may  be  understood  as  having  no  rela- 
tion to  space  or  time.  With  its  personality,  however,  its  finiteness 
or  a  circumscribed  limit  remains  connected.  The  Pantheistic  phi- 
losopher is  ready  enough  to  speak  of  the  spirit,  or  of  man's  spirit, 
but  reluctantly  of  spirits,  and  almost  contemptuously  of  angels.  A 
continued,  endless  duration  of  persons,  or  beings,  destined  to  an 
eternal  existence,  wars  against  his  system.  We  are  to  regard  man, 
in  relation  to  this  subject,  as  one  entire  whole.  His  inward  powers 
were  called  into  existence  at  the  same  time  with  his  external.  The 
priority,  indeed,  belongs  to  his  spiritual  part  so  far  as  it  has  a  nearer 
connection  than  his  body,  with  the  Divine  Being.  In  the  soul  of 
man  lies  his  personality.  In  his  personality  he  is  distinct  from  the 
Creator,  he  is  a  creature  in  the  creation.  As  a  spirit,  man  has  the 
ability  to  assimilate  to  himself  inferior  elements,  and  to  make  them 
subserve  his  purposes.  As  a  spiritual  creature,  he  has  a  peculiar 
measure  of  powers  and  talents,  mingled  in  a  peculiar  manner,  and 
therein  lies  the  principle  or  essential  element  of  his  formation.  The 
figure,  the  form,  or  the  appearance  possessed  by  men,  depends  up- 
on, or  has  a  connection  with,  the  spiritual  powers  which  belong  to 
all  in  common.  The  particular  combination  of  the  faculties  in  each 
individual,  imparts  to  him  his  appropriate  individuality,  even  in  its 
external  manifestation.  Thus  the  assumption  of  a  corporeal  form, 
on  the  part  of  man,  has  its  ground  in  his  spiritual  nature.  As  a 
purely  spiritual,  incorporeal  being,  he  proceeds  from  God,  who  made 
him  in  his  own  image.  He  has  now  the  principle  of  his  form  or 
organization.  He  goes  from  God  into  the  creation,  which  bestows 
upon  him  an  organic  covering  from  its  finest,  and  most  delicate  mate- 
rials. In  his  spirit,  he  has  the  scheme  or  ideal  figure  of  his  bodily 
structure.  But  in  the  creation,  he  has  a  close  affinity  with  the  earth, 
and  accordingly  assimilates  to  himself  what  he  needs  of  earthy  ma- 
terial, in  order  to  effect  his  bodily  organization. 

This  organic  law  has  its  corresponding  idea  in  the  biblical  com- 
parison of  man,  sleeping  in  the  grave,  to  a  seed-corn,  which  is  to 
germinate  at  the  resurrection.  The  entire,  deceased  man  is  the 
seed-corn,  not  what  we  term  his  remains,  in  and  of  themselves. 
These  are  rather  the  perishable,  by  which  is  enclosed  the  imperishable 
part  of  this  seed-corn,  the  germ  of  a  new  life,  of  a  new  organiza- 
tion.   The  undecaying  portion  is  the  inner  man,  which  is  renewed 

36 


282 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


day  by  day,  while  the  outward  perishes  or  dies.  This  is  the  seed 
for  the  resurrection.1 

If  we  adopt  such  an  hypothesis,  however,  we  may  appear  to  ar- 
rive much  too  soon  at  the  period  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 
This  might  seem  to  follow  immediately  after  death.  But  the  appa- 
rent difficulty  will  vanish  on  a  nearer  consideration. 

The  spirit  assumes  for  itself  a  form  as  it  is,  from  materials  where 
it  is.  To  the  first  of  these  positions  we  shall  revert  at  the  con- 
clusion of  these  remarks.  We  now  proceed  particularly  to  con- 
sider what  is  founded  on  the  second  position,  namely,  that  the  spirit 
takes  its  organization  from  materials  existing  where  it  has  its  resi- 
dence. This  we  shall  do  under  the  three  heads  of  death,  intermedi- 
ate condition  after  death,  and  resurrection  of  the  body. 

We  are  to  contemplate  the  death  of  man,  separately  from  its 
moral  relations,  as  a  laying  aside  of  the  earthly,  or  as  a  departure 
from  the  earth,  for  both  these  are  essentially  the  same.  When, 
however,  man  leaves  the  earth,  he  does  not  leave  the  creation. 
When  he  puts  otf  the  terrestrial,  he  does  not  lay  aside  what  he  re- 
ceived from  the  creation.  As  the  earth  has  in  itself  matter  which 
is  simply  earthy,  while  this  same  matter  is  pervaded  by  something 
of  a  higher  sort,  which  belongs  to  the  entire  creation,  (thus  the  hea- 
vens are  pervaded,  for  example,  by  light,  electricity,  the  gases,  in  gen- 
eral by  the  ether,  the  mysterious  ocean  of  all  vital  energies  diffused 
through  universal  space),  and  as,  finally,  the  Divine  existence  per- 
vades and  fills  the  creation,  so  man,  also,  in  accordance  with  the 
biblical  representation  of  his  entire  nature,  has  the  three  simple  char- 
acteristics—earthly— ethereal  —  godlike,  or  something  from  God, 
something  from  the  general  substance  of  the  creation,  and  something 
from  the  earth.  When  he  dies,  he  retains,  not  merely  what  he  pos- 
sessed, as  he  came  from  God,  a  purely  spiritual  existence,  but  what 
he  had  from  the  creation,  a  soul-like,  ethereal  form  or  organization, 
and  he  leaves  only  that  which  he  had  from  the  earth,  namely,  the 
mortal,  the  perishable,  because  he  now  quits  the  earth.  That  by 
death  man  is  divested  of  the  earthy,  of  the  corruptible,  we  need  not 
stop  to  prove.  It  is  enough  merely  to  mention  the  passage  quoted 
by  Mliller.2    That  man  at  death  leaves  the  earth,  the  Scriptures, 

1  See  Note  M,  at  the  close  of  this  Article. 

2  Ta  ^QOjfj,ara  rrj  xoc?u'a,  nal  rt  xoiXla  zoig  (tq(jjfwatv,  6  Si  d"edg  xal  Tavtrjv 
nal  ravTa  xarapyrjaei,  1  Cor.  6:  13. 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


283 


likewise,  teach  in  the  general  declarations  respecting  the  entrance  of 
the  departed  into  the  realms  of  death,  or,  specially,  of  the  admission 
of  the  righteous  into  Paradise,  into  heaven,  into  the  eternal  mansions, 
and  of  the  going  away  of  the  wicked  to  hell.1 

In  the  consideration  of  the  intermediate  state  of  man  after  death, 
we  must  further  inquire,  whether,  subsequently  to  death,  anything 
remains  of  a  bodily  nature,  anything  besides  a  purely  spiritual  exist- 
ence. The  following  point  may  be  regarded  as  fixed.  The  Bible 
knows  nothing  of  a  boundless  generalizing  of  man  beyond  the  grave, 
in  accordance  with  which  the  personal,  continued  existence  of  the 
spirit  is  made  in  its  infinity,  to  have  neither  form  nor  place.  It 
speaks  of  spirits  in  prison,  of  habitations  in  Sheol,  of  paradise,  of 
many  mansions  in  our  Father's  house,  of  the  dwelling  of  Christ 
far  above  all  principalities.  There  are  bright  realms,  fixed,  local 
habitations  in  man's  spiritual  world.  We  can  form,  indeed,  of  ne- 
cessity no  other  conception  of  the  continued  existence  of  the  soul, 
than  that  it  must  be  somewhere.  When  one  seeks  to  elucidate  the 
opposite  notion,  namely,  the  denial  of  the  where,  he  comes  instantly 
to  the  position,  that  a  finite  spirit  vanishes  and  is  lost  in  the  infinite. 
This  is  the  pantheistic  immortality  of  Richter  of  Magdeburg,  the 
death-prophet,  who  was  animated  with  the  thought  of  one  day  dying, 
not  like  man,  but  of  dying  utterly,  and  who  announced  to  his  con- 
temporaries, as  if  he  had  a  new  gospel,  words,  which  Frederic  the 
Great  is  said  to  have  addressed  to  his  wavering  grenadiers, 4  Ye 
hounds,  ye  wish  then  to  live  always.' 

If  now,  universally,  the  spirit  of  the  departed  stays  in  the  crea- 
tion, then  it  will  retain  that  which  it  had  from  the  creation,  which  it 
appropriated  out  of  the  existing  materials  of  the  creation,  in  the 
way  of  a  definite  organization  for  its  own  spiritual  powers.  This 
organization  is  the  soul,  which  serves  as  a  kind  of  robe  for  the  spi- 
rit. And  when  it  obtains  its  particular  dwelling-place,  then  it  will 
assimilate,  from  the  materials  of  this  place,  what  will  be  fitted  to 


1  Were  one  to  admit  what  has  been  often  conjectured,  namely,  that  some 
departed  souls,  fast  held  by  a  chain  of  earthly  sense,  linger  still,  for  a  long 
time,  wear  the  earth, — in  that  case  a  possibility  is  admitted,  that  they  might 
occasionally  make  their  appearance  in  an  imperfect,  volatile  form.  The  pos- 
sibility of  the  visible  appearance  of  angels,  rests  also  upon  the  principle  of 
organization  indicated  above  ;  they  come,  however,  from  a  superior,  ethere- 
al world,  investing  themselves  with  robes  which  gleam  like  the  lightning, 


284 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


itself,  and  thus  it  will  assume  an  organization  adapted  to  its  sphere. 
How  otherwise,  could  a  moving,  acting,  forming  spirit  remain  in  its 
sphere,  and  live  in  its  entire  activities,  with  its  associates,  in  the  same 
sphere  ?  A  perfect  nakedness  of  the  spirit,  would  amount  to  its  being 
in  an  absolute  solitude,  or  in  a  state  of  utter  loneliness,  which  we 
cannot  think  of.  Even  a  relative  nakedness — the  unclothing  of 
souls  from  their  spherical  organization  or  covering — would  unfit 
man  for  a  particular  sphere  which  might  be  named.  We  think  of 
departed  souls  at  death  as  still  present,  or  near,  but  not  visible 
to  us.  They  are  then  unclothed  and  relatively  naked,  but  not 
unclothed  in  the  sense  of  being  merely  pure,  spiritual  existences ; 
they  are  not  absolutely  naked.  They  again  make  use  of  what  may 
be  termed  a  body,  or  a  corporeal  substance.  Accordingly  the  spirits 
in  Hades  must  take  their  organization  from  materials  in  Hades  ; 
the  spirits  in  heaven,  from  heavenly  materials.  The  finer  the  mate- 
rial of  their  place  of  abode,  the  finer  and  the  more  delicate  will  be 
their  garments ;  but  there  nowhere  exist  perfectly  immaterial 
places  and  forms.  Without  doubt,  the  lamentation  of  the  rich  man 
in  hell,  and  in  suffering, '  1  am  tormented  in  this  flame,'  has  a  spirit- 
ual meaning,  but  a  figurative,  spiritual  sense  can  hardly  exclude 
every  thing  of  a  bodily  or  corporeal  form.  When  Jesus  says 
to  his  disciples, 1 1  will  no  more  drink  of  the  fruit  of  the  vine,  till  the 
day  when  I  drink  it  new  with  you  in  my  Father's  house,'  there 
lies,  in  these  words,  together  with  all  the  fulness  of  a  spiritual  con- 
ception, something  which  is  inconsistent  with  the  absolute  exclusion 
of  what  is  material  or  corporeal  in  the  future  state. 

In  respect  to  the  passage,  2  Cor.  5:  4,  '  we  would  not  be  un- 
clothed but  clothed  upon,'  etc.,  Professor  Miiller  assumes  that  Paul 
is  here  describing  the  intermediate  state  of  the  departed  after  death, 
as  a  mere  naked,  spiritual  existence.  In  opposition  to  this  idea,  we 
submit  the  following  remarks.  In  the  first  verse  Paul  says :  '  we 
know  that  if  our  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we 
have  a  building  of  God,  an  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in 
the  heavens  ;'  and,  '  in  this  we  groan,  earnestly  desiring  to  be  clothed 
upon  with  our  house  which  is  from  heaven.'  How  near  is  placed 
the  entrance  upon  our  new  habitation  to  the  exit  from  our  old !  and 
as  the  tent  reminds  us  of  the  frail,  earthly  body,  so  must  the  eternal 
habitation  remind  us  of  the  spiritual,  heavenly  body.  Though  this 
assumption  of  an  organization  which  awaits  the  spirit,  on  its  entrance 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


285 


into  heaven,  does  not  exclude  a  future  corporeal  resurrection,  still 
the  idea  will  forbid  an  absolute  nakedness  of  the  spirit.  The  apos- 
tle makes  use  of  three  terms,  whose  meaning  may  be  illustrated  gram- 
matically, and  in  their  connection  as  follows:  1, 4  To  be  clothed 
upon,'1  when  the  perishable  is  laid  aside  in  the  process  of  the 
change — the  swallowing  up  of  mortality  in  life  ;  2,  '  To  be  uncloth- 
ed,'2 is  the  laying  down  of  the  earthly,  tangible  garment  in  the  bit- 
ter experience  of  death,  before  the  new  garment  can  be  assumed ; 
3,  1  To  be  clothed,'3  that  is,  again  clothed,  after  having  been  un- 
clothed at  the  fearful  moment  of  death.  The  following  is  the  sense 
of  the  passage  :4  We  sigh  to  become  clothed  upon.  If  we  were 
only  clothed,  (according  to  the  existing  state — not  clothed  upon — 
though  that  is  the  deepest  want  of  man,  and  therefore  to  be  the 
most  profoundly  desired),  then  we  should  not  be  found  naked.  For 
we,  who  are  in  this  tabernacle,  groan,  being  burdened,  though  we 
do  not  desire  to  be  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon,  that  mortality  may 
be  swallowed  up  of  life.  The  passage  may  be  expressed  concisely 
thus :  '  We  would  not  be  clothed  upon,  well  as  we  might  long  for 
that,  but  were  we  unclothed,  we  would  still  be  again  clotbed.'5 

If  there  are  many  mansions  in  our  Father's  house,  many  realms 
of  life,  then  also  there  will  be  many  kinds  of  heavenly  bodies.  One 
spirit  will  be  clothed  at  the  sun,  of  the  material  of  the  sun  ;  another  at 
the  moon,  of  the  material  of  the  moon  ;  a  third  at  the  stars,  of  the 
material  of  the  stars.  In  the  classical  passage  respecting  the  resur- 
rection, 1  Cor.  15:  39  seq.,  Paul  first  speaks  of  various  kinds  of 
flesh, 1  not  all  flesh  is  the  same  flesh,  but  there  is  one  flesh  of  men, 
another  of  beasts,  another  of  fishes,  and  another  of  fowls.'  Then 
he  speaks  of  various  kinds  of  bodies  :  '  and  there  are  celestial  bo- 
dies and  bodies  terrestrial,  but  the  glory  of  the  celestial  is  one,  and 
the  glory  of  the  terrestrial  another.'  Finally  he  speaks  of  the  bodies 
in  the  universe,  or  the  spheres  of  life.  4  There  is  one  glory  of  the 
sun,  another  glory  of  the  moon,  and  another  of  the  stars,  for  one 
star  differs  from  another  in  glory.'  WTould  Paul  have  given  this 
entire  exhibition,  merely  in  order  to  show,  by  accumulated  analo- 

1  tTievSiaaod'ai.  2  txdvoaod'ai.  3  ivS  aaad'ai. 

4  *Ett£v§ i  oao&ai  in iTTo&ofvrsg  •  ttys  y.al  tvdvodjuevoi,  or  yvfivol  €igt&i]- 
oope&a.  Kal  y&Q  oiovxeg  iv  to]  oxtfvst  oxtvalofxtv  fiagoifievoi,  ifp  tu  at;  &t- 
Xoftev  exdt  oao&ai  all  tn&vSroaod'at ,  iva  -/.axaixo^  T"  dvtjxvv  i  no  xrtg  iwijs. 

5  See  note  N,  at  the  close  of  this  Article. 


286 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


gies,  that  the  resurrection-body  of  man  will  be  different  from  his 
existing  body  ?  It  rather  seems,  that  in  these  analogies,  he  has 
given  what  may  be  termed  the  laws  of  organization,  or  incarnation. 
Therefore  stands  as  preliminary,  the  great  principle,  '  God  hath 
given  to  it  a  body,  as  it  pleases  him,'  (as  Creator  in  the  original  de- 
cree), '  and  to  each  of  the  seeds  its  own  body.'  The  seed-corn,  or 
the  inner  vital  principle,  clothes  itself  in  accordance  with  its  inmost 
nature  and  necessities  ;  it  assimilates  its  own  as  flesh.  Hence  on 
earth  there  are  so  many  kinds  of  flesh,  according  to  the  diverse  na- 
tures given  to  what  God  has  created.  But  apart  from  all  this  variety, 
there  are  for  these  natures,  man's,  as  an  example,  different  ways  or 
courses  of  life,  and  accordingly  different  bodies,  earthly  and  heav- 
enly; the  former  fashioned  for  earthly  needs,  with  earthly  appe- 
tites, organized  into  sexes  ;  while  the  latter  are  fitted  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  heavenly  state,  according  to  the  declaration  of  Jesus, 
1  these  neither  marry  nor  are  given  in  marriage,  but  are  like  the  an- 
gels in  heaven.'  Thus  the  butterfly  has  an  ethereal  body,  in  some 
sense  related  to  the  earthly  body  which  it  has  as  a  caterpillar.  The 
assumption  of  a  body,  in  the  first  place,  depends  on  the  inner  prin- 
ciples of  its  being  as  a  creature  ;  in  the  second  place,  on  the  stage 
of  its  development ;  to  which  finally,  the  third  thing  is  annexed,  its 
dwelling  place,  whether  the  sun,  or  moon,  or  stars,  since  each  kind 
of  flesh  takes  its  appropriate  sphere  of  life. 

In  the  same  manner  as  the  old  seed  of  wheat,  so  long  sown  as 
dead,  shall  come  in  a  new,  mature  form,  as  it  were,  to  its  resurrec- 
tion and  glorification,  (retaining  also  an  organization  in  its  interme- 
diate state,  in  its  changing  form  of  a  germ,  a  tender  blade,  a  stalk), 
thus  also  the  human  spirit,  in  the  intermediate  state  after  death,  is 
not  without  its  organization.  But  as  the  old  seed  of  wheat  appears 
first  in  its  new  and  perfect  form,  when  it  has  undergone  the  process 
of  renovation,  thus  also  the  dead  will  not  come  to  their  perfect,  glo- 
rified state,  till  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  which  will  take  place  at 
the  end  of  the  world. 

Professor  Miiller  remarks,  p.  783,  in  opposition  to  Fichte, '  that  it 
is  an  indisputable  doctrine  of  the  Bible,  that  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead  will  be  universal  and  simultaneous,  followed  by  the  glorified 
change  of  those  then  alive — at  the  end  of  the  world — at  the  second 
coming  of  Christ  for  judgment,  and  for  the  revelation  of  his  glorious 
power.    In  close  connection  with  this  perfect  manifestation  of  his 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


287 


power,  and  with  the  redemption  of  our  body,  which  serves  as  a 
cause  or  occasion  of  this  manifestation,  the  apostle  has  further  added, 
in  that  profound  passage,  Rom.  8:  19 — 23,  a  glorification  of  terres- 
trial nature,  a  raising  of  it  up  so  as  to  share  in  the  glory  of  the  chil- 
dren of  God,  in  accordance,  of  course,  with  its  appropriate  manner. 
For  the  body  of  man  exists  in  the  closest  and  the  most  inseparable 
union  with  this  nature ;  and  it  is,  therefore,  scarcely  possible  to 
form  a  conception  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  without  includ- 
ing the  glorified  nature  as  the  scene  of  its  new  life.'' 

The  following  sentiment  is  alike  founded  in  the  Bible.  1  This 
glorification  of  nature,  however,  this  renovation  of  the  heavens  and 
the  earth,  according  to  the  apostle,  will  not  occur  till  the  destruction 
of  the  present  world.'  It  yet  strikes  us  as  remarkable,  that  Midler 
finds  a  contradiction  to  this,  when  Fichte  refers  it  [the  glorification] 
to  a  higher  nature  and  organization,  '  which  [higher  nature]  pene- 
trates that  [nature]  which  is  now  observable  only  by  our  senses, 
and  by  which  the  former  is  veiled,  at  least  for  the  present,  and  into 
which  the  departed  spirit  immediately  enters.'  In  the  first  place, 
this  is  maintained  by  Fichte  in  respect  to  the  earth  ;  its  future  de- 
struction will  be  only  a  change,  whereby  its  higher  nature  will  be 
developed,  which  had  already  existed,  veiled  in  the  lower.  In  the 
second  place,  it  is  assumed  of  all  creatures;  their  most  anxious  ex- 
pectation, their  sighing  and  longing  is  towards  a  coming  redemption 
from  subjection  to  vanity,  that  they  may  be  fixed  in  glorified  forms, 
and  their  sighing  is  an  expression  of  their  original  constitution — the 
primary  tendencies  of  their  nature.  In  the  third  place,  the  same 
thing  is  asserted  of  men,  for  the  germ  of  the  resurrection  is  now 
contained  in  the  old,  perishable  body,  (else  this  would  be  no  seed- 
corn),  and  thus  a  higher  organization  is  contained  in  the  lower. 
Should  this  idea  of  Fichte  be  construed  thus  :  '  that  the  departed 
spirit  at  death  immediately  assumes  the  resurrection-body,'  then  it  is 
manifestly  at  variance  with  the  Bible. 

The  spiritual  being  of  man  remains  at  death,  clothed  only  with 
that  delicate  garment  derived  from  the  general  substance  of  the  cre- 
ation ;  still,  it  has  besides,  in  this  form,  the  power,  the  elementary 
rudiment,  the  principle  and  scheme  for  every  single  organization  in 
its  new  dwelling-place— for  every  organization  in  whatever  world  it 
may  be.  So  then  it  has  this  tendency,  this  sort  of  capability,  or 
preliminary  ground  for  the  resurrection  of  the  body.    In  respect  to 


288 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


the  evidence  of  a  higher  nature,  which  lies  concealed  in  our  present 
nature,  the  transfiguration  of  Christ  on  the  mountain  is  a  conspicu- 
ous instance.1 

We  will  now  advert  to  the  texts,  Matt,  xxv.,  John  v.,  Rom.  viii., 
1  Cor.  xv.,  IThess.  iv.,  2  Pet.  hi.,  and  Rev.  xx.  and  xxi.  We  here 
have  the  doctrine  respecting  the  last  things,  with  its  great  outlines 
linked  together  in  a  way  which  is  full  of  mystery ; — the  return  of 
Christ,  the  end  of  the  world,  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  the  final 
judgment,  the  renovation  of  the  earth,  the  glorification  of  the 
righteous.  The  connections  of  the  events  are  mysteriously  deve- 
loped. In  those  lofty  words,  Rev.  20:  11,  this  stupendous,  wonder- 
ful change  is  indicated.  The  old  earth,  with  its  heavens,  flees  away 
before  the  face  of  the  universal  Judge,  seated  on  a  great,  white 
throne,  so  that  no  more  place  is  found  for  them.  Then  follows  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  the  judgment,  and  the  separation  of  death 
and  hades  and  the  lost  souls  of  earth,  who  are  together  cast  into  the 
lake  of  fire. 

The  end  of  the  world  comes  with  the  last  tremendous  struggle 
between  the  kingdom  of  light  and  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  with 
the  return  of  Christ  to  judgment,  and  the  destruction  of  the  old  earth.2 

1  Mailer  alleges,  p.  750,  that  Christ  arose  from  the  tomb  with  the  same 
material  body  which  he  had  before  his  crucifixion.  As  a  proof  he  adduces 
the  fact,  that  Christ  ate,  and  that  he  showed  Thomas  the  marks  of  his 
wounds.  But  very  many  proofs  of  an  opposite  kind  may  be  alleged,  the 
most  important  of  which  is  the  ascension  into  heaven.  To  the  ascension 
belongs  a  glorified  body,  which  had  from  the  earth  only  that  which  was  im- 
perishable. Might  not  a  glorified  one  eat,  while  the  food  was  transformed 
by  an  inward,  higher,  living  energy  into  a  superior  element,  or  be  chemically 
evaporated  ?  Is  not  the  most  gross  and  material  substance  evaporated  into 
ether  by  means  of  forces  of  great  power  ?  And  could  not  the  wounds  in 
the  body  be  verified  by  marks  in  the  resurrection-body  ?  We  may  inquire, 
whether  the  change  in  the  body  of  Christ  was  complete  at  the  resurrection, 
or  did  it  proceed  gradually  till  the  ascension,  so  that  the  moment  of  its 
completion  was  the  moment  of  Christ's  being  received  up,  when  the  earthy 
band  was  wholly  sundered? 

2  The  declaration  respecting  a  new  heaven  in  addition  to  a  new  earth, 
may  be  taken  in  the  same  sense,  as  Gen.  I.,  where  the  creation  of  the 
heavens,  the  sun,  moon  and  stars  is  interwoven  with  the  creation  of  the 
earth  ;  yet  so  that  the  preexistence  of  the  stars  is  not  denied,  when  it  is  said 
that  they  were  made  on  the  fourth  day  of  the  creation,  in  order  to  furnish 
an  enlightened  atmosphere  for  the  earth.    One  may  now  see  in  a  pure,  thin, 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


289 


A  revolution  of  the  earth,  which  shakes  and  transforms  the  plane- 
tary system ;  and  which,  while  it  occurs  as  the  decree  of  God,  at 
the  last  moment  of  the  world's  history,  is  also  connected,  as  a  subor- 
dinate natural  phenomenon,  with  a  great  moral  change  in  mankind, 
is  the  signal  for  the  coming  of  Christ.  Here  the  christian  eschato- 
logy  has  almost  anticipated  a  conclusion  of  philosophy,  which  well 
agrees  with  the  idea  of  a  future  change  of  the  globe.  In  the  course 
of  nature,  the  earth  is  destined,  by  the  laws  of  heat,  to  be  burned  up 
with  its  works.  Perhaps  here  is  to  be  placed  the  white  shining  throne 
of  the  approaching  Son  of  man,  Rev.,  or  his  appearing  in  the  clouds  of 
heaven,  Matt.,  or  his  coming  with  fiery  flames  for  vengeance,  2  Thess. 
At  one  grand  signal,  the  trump  of  God  sounds — the  voice  of  the  arch- 
angel, 1  Thess.,  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God,  John,  the  passing 
away  of  the  heavens  with  a  great  noise,  2  Pet.  This  is  the  myste- 
rious, extraordinary  event,  which,  as  a  signal,  shall  assemble  the 
entire  race  of  man  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ  on  earth,  who 
shall  renew  the  earth  with  its  works,  shall  change  the  living,  shall 
awake  the  dead. 

In  the  thunder  of  that  change,  the  earth  shall  yield  up  her  dead. 
The  spirits,  assembled  to  judgment,  shall  be  again  clothed  with  ma- 
terials of  earth.  The  earth  itself  shall  be  in  a  process  of  purifica- 
tion ;  the  perishable  shall  separate  from  the  imperishable  ;  the  hea- 
venly from  the  gross  and  stiff  materials  of  earth.  By  the  purifying 
flames,  it  shall  be  freed  from  death,  the  principle  of  destruction, 
from  evil,  and  from  every  former  curse.  From  the  old  materials  of 
the  earth,  the  spirit  will  not  receive  its  body,  but,  in  accordance  with 
its  inward  nature,  it  will  assimilate  to  itself  that  which  is  fitted  to  its 
development  and  formation.  The  saints  may  clothe  themselves  in 
the  pure  element  of  the  renovated  earth ;  they  will  shine  forth  as 
the  sun.  The  incorrigible  sinner  shall  be  clothed  in  the  dark,  per- 
ishable, debased  materials  of  earth  ;  according  to  Daniel,  he  will 
arise  to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt ;  according  to  the  Apoca- 
lypse he  will  be  cast,  together  with  death,  into  the  lake  of  fire. 

The  reason  why  the  resurrection  of  the  just  is  mentioned  so  much 
more  frequently  than  that  of  the  wicked,  is,  possibly,  because  there 
remains  for  the  latter  only  the  garment  of  corruption  for  a  covering, 

air,  on  high  mountains,  the  heavens  of  a  dark  blue,  and  the  stars  burning  as 
torches.  Still  this  consideration  would  not  exclude  the  final  renovation  of 
the  universe  in  all  its  single  parts. 

37 


290 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  DEAD. 


the  smoke  and  mist  of  a  curse,  the  degraded  element  of  the  old 
earth,  so  that  they  will  share  in  the  blackest,  most  ghostly  raiment 
for  the  soul,  thereby  expressing  their  own  broken,  confused  and 
hateful  state. 

That  the  righteous  will  assume  their  body  from  the  material  of  the 
purified  earth,  is  in  accordance  with  the  promise  by  which  they  shall 
dwell  on  a  new  earth — a  final  fulfilment  of  the  declaration  :  1  The 
meek  shall  inherit  the  earth.'  For  by  means  of  the  assumption  of  a 
bodily  organization,  can  they  first  come  to  tread,  permanently,  on 
this  new  starry  home.  But  as  their  organism,  or  the  ideal  form  of 
their  body,  which  has  its  foundation  in  the  spiritual  powers  as  they  are 
developed,  purified  and  formed  in  the  soul,  must  assimilate  to  itself 
the  requisite,  corporeal,  living  material  from  the  new  earth,  so  then 
the  resurrection  of  the  flesh  also  must  be  taken  into  the  account 
when  we  are  considering  this  material. 

But  how  can  an  incarnation  of  this  sort  be  viewed  as  a  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead,  or  as  a  calling  them  from  the  tomb  ?  We  answer, 
first,  because  the  departed  spirit  has  an  element  for  the  resurrection, 
a  germ  of  the  seed-corn  derived  from  the  old,  decayed  body.  Se- 
condly, as  in  the  old  earth  there  lies  the  ground  or  elementary  plan 
by  which  it  may  be  renovated,  so  there  lies  in  the  ashes  of  the  old 
life  of  man  a  ground  for  an  everlasting  growth  for  man,  changed 
and  to  be  changed.  In  the  third  place,  as  the  departed  have  laid 
aside  those  corporeal  substances  which  were  entirely  fitted  to  their 
organization  here,  so  they  will  assume  from  the  earth  what  is  most 
appropriate  to  them,  what  belongs  to  them,  what  may  serve  as  a  robe 
to  their  spirits,  taking  again,  as  it  were,  their  bodies  from  their 
graves.  Then  we  are  to  add,  in  the  fourth  place,  that  the  new  body 
will  have  an  organic  identity  with  the  old,  though  the  lower  organs 
which  were  exclusively  adapted  to  the  old  life  will  not  be  found. 
The  new  body  will  be  more  delicate,  more  spiritual,  fixed  to  an  eter- 
nal state,  a  new,  renovated  image  of  the  first  body. 

Thus  man's  spirit  assumes  its  organization  from  materials  where 
it  is.  The  same  is  also  true  in  respect  to  the  how,  or  the  manner  of 
this  assumption.  The  inward,  vital  energy,  the  degree  of  life,  the 
stage  of  interior  development  or  of  deterioration,  the  ground  and  the 
elementary  conception,  the  rude  notion  and  state  of  cultivation,  eve- 
rything in  the  inward  structure  is  forced  to  express  itself  in  the  out- 
ward form,  or  at  least  it  struggles  towards  such  an  expression.  Still 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


291 


these  pictures  or  ideals  here  exist  first  in  a  process  of  growth,  in  con- 
stant change,  and  if  they  truly  correspond  in  all  the  finer  character- 
istics, still  they  are  not  entirely  alike  in  what  meets  the  eye.  The 
outward  appearance  of  man  seems  to  be  often  in  contrast  with  his 
inward  condition,  when  it  is  not  taken  into  the  account  that  there  are 
many  apparent  contrasts  of  this  kind,  which  rest  on  false  assumptions, 
as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  spiritual  ought  to  clothe  itself  in  a  cor- 
poreal form.  A  part,  however,  of  the  actual  contrast  depends  on 
the  circumstance,  that  the  spiritual  nature  changes  more  rapidly  than 
the  corporeal.  The  former  is  endlessly  active  in  its  freedom  ;  the 
latter,  in  its  immovable  state,  is  in  close  connection  with  a  natural 
necessity.  But  even  in  the  noblest  forms,  from  which  we  derive  our 
opinion  of  the  beauty  of  the  original  element  or  fundamental  ground, 
there  will  still  appear  a  kind  of  reflex  action  from  the  inward  germ 
— or  a  step  backward.  Now  another  part  of  the  contrariety  in  ques- 
tion consists  in  this,  that  the  earthy  man,  the  uvt]q  x°m°s,  is  created 
out  of  spirit  into  the  relations  of  life  ;  with  this  natural  life,  he  exists 
under  the  influences  of  the  external  world,  moral  as  well  as  physical. 
The  proper  development,  or  culture,  of  his  nature,  from  within  out- 
ward, may  experience  a  strong  retroactive  influence  from  without, 
by  which  it  will  be  modified.  The  first  great  action  or  influence  of 
this  kind  consists  in  the  manner  in  which  the  innate,  original  nature 
of  man,  [as  formed  by  God],  is  darkened  from  its  lustre  through  the 
hereditary,  ingrafted  depravity  of  a  fallen  race.  Now  as  there  is  a 
general  influence  of  this  native  depravity,  so  there  are  various  spe- 
cial effects  which  it  produces.  Thus  a  child  of  the  most  beautiful 
kind  may  receive  from  the  blood  of  its  father  a  cause  of  sickness, 
which  will  disfigure  its  form.  Other  similar  influences  proceed  from 
the  manner  of  life,  from  one's  destiny,  from  climate,  from  the  na- 
tional spirit,  and  from  other  powerful  influences.  All  these  influen- 
ces may  modify  and  interrupt  the  settled  arrangements  of  human 
life  ;  they  enter  deeply  within.  In  the  most  hidden  springs  of  life, 
however,  in  the  freedom  of  the  spirit,  they  lose  their  predominant 
power,  and  on  that  part  of  our  being  can  only  avail  in  the  way  of 
excitement  or  misleading.  Therefore  man,  however  externally  de- 
formed, distorted  and  mutilated,  may  be  again  restored  from  his  in- 
ward life  outward,  to  the  living,  perfect  beauty  of  a  new  man,  by 
applying  the  means  of  restoration.  In  spite  of  all  external  hindran- 
ces, he  may  wholly  triumph  over  his  outward  man  by  virtue  of  his 


292 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  THE  BODY. 


inward  movement.  Though  an  apostate  man,  he  may  again  rise 
with  the  help  of  grace.  He  can  become  more  than  conqueror  over 
the  dark  force  of  nature  whereby  his  outward  man  rules  over  his 
inward.  And  so  far  as  the  spirit  has  not  marked  out  a  course  for 
itself,  the  body  does  not  determine  for  it,  but  is  itself  to  be  regarded 
as  a  disposable  power,  so  that  in  this  sense  the  words  of  St.  Martin 
are  true,  "  The  body  is  nothing  more  than  a  project  or  draught." 
As  an  imperfect  plan,  the  body  is  only  a  copy  of  the  nature  of  the 
inner  man,  but  not  of  his  moral  condition.  So  also  the  corporeal 
form  of  man  here  below  is  no  perfect  picture  of  his  inner. — But  it 
will  be  otherwise.  At  the  resurrection,  the  body  will  be  a  perfectly 
suitable  form  for  the  soul.  The  bodies  of  the  righteous  will  be  per- 
vaded and  completely  ruled  by  their  spirits,  as  their  spirit  is  by  the 
Spirit  of  God.  Therefore,  they  are  spiritual  bodies,  an  image  of 
God,  similar  in  fraternal  traits  to  the  glorified  body  of  Jesus,  1  John. 
According  to  the  same  law,  the  forms  of  the  wicked  will  be  hateful, 
within  and  without ;  they  will  arise  to  shame. 

But  along  with  the  glorification,  or  degradation,  of  those  who  shall 
rise,  which  has  its  ground  in  their  inmost  being,  there  is,  also,  to  be 
considered,  as  before  remarked,  their  place  of  residence.  The  ex- 
ternal sphere  will  furnish  them  their  materials  of  organization.  And 
in  accordance  with  this,  their  external  form  will  receive  its  modifi- 
cations. The  science  of  ethnography  now  shows  the  same  thing  in 
the  every  day  life  of  man.  The  diminutive  Esquimaux  and  the  gi- 
gantic Patagonian,  the  ugly  Hottentot  woman  and  the  beautiful  Cir- 
cassian, the  awkward  Mongol  and  the  nobly  formed  Spaniard ;  these 
all,  in  their  contrast,  lead  us,  at  first  indeed,  to  the  difference  in  the 
intellectual  faculties  of  their  respective  nations  ;  but  this  difference 
itself,  in  a  certain  degree,  has  its  foundation  in  the  thousand  existing 
influences  of  climate, — as  children  may  show  at  the  present  time, 
indirectly,  in  their  forms,  what  their  country  is,  and  the  region  where 
they  live.  And  in  accordance  with  some  such  analogies  or  marks, 
must  the  new  earth  be  inhabited  by  forms  of  human  beauty,  while 
the  outer  darkriess  where  there  is  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth 
will  clothe,  as  it  were,  caricatures  of  the  human  form.1 

1  1  have  now,  for  the  first  time,  after  completing  the  above  remarks,  been 
able  to  read  the  essay  itself  of  Fichte.  I  have  done  so  with  much  pleasure 
and  satisfaction.  In  order  to  correct  what  was  my  supposition  of  Fichte  s 
idea,  and  which  was  founded  on  the  above  mentioned  notice  of  him,  and 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


293 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 

NOTE  A,  p.  229. 

Respecting  the  author  of  this  Commentary,  Dr.  L.  J.  Rilckert,  we  have 
been  able  to  find  but  very  scanty  notices.  Previously  to  1826,  he  appears  to 
have  resided  in  a  small  village  in  the  vicinity  of  Zittau,  in  tbe  Saxon  part  of 
Upper  Lusatia.  From  1826  to  1837  or  1838,  he  was  employed  as  a  teacher 
in  the  flourishing  gymnasium  in  Zittau,  a  town  of  about  8,000  inhabitants. 
From  various  allusions  in  his  writings,  we  infer  that  he  has  encountered  no 
little  opposition,  and  even  personal  hardship,  in  consequence  of  the  indepen- 
dence with  which  he  avows  his  religious  opinions.  In  the  summer  of  1838, 
we  find  him  in  Leipsic,  establishing  a  "  Magazine  for  the  Exegeis  and  The- 
ology of  the  New  Testament."  The  first  number  is  written  wholly  by  the 
editor,  and  contains  146  pages.  About  ninety  pages  are  employed  on  the 
ninth  chapter  of  Romans,  from  which  the  author  concludes  that  Paul  teach- 
es the  doctrine  of  predestination.  Another  article  is  on  the  situation  of  Ga- 
latia,  and  the  time  when  the  epistle  to  the  Galatians  was  written.  The 
Magazine  is  to  be  entirely  occupied  with  the  exegesis  of  the  New  Testament. 
In  the  Preface,  he  has  the  following  remark  :  "  Employ  all  the  proper 
means  in  your  power  to  ascertain  the  true  sense  of  the  writer ;  give  him 
nothing  of  thine  ;  take  from  him  nothing  that  is  his.  Never  inquire  what 
he  ought  to  say  ;  never  be  afraid  of  what  he  does  say.  It  is  your  business 
to  learn,  not  to  teach.    From  this  principle  I  cannot  depart  in  the  least,  al- 

consequently,  for  a  correction  of  the  notice  itself,  I  must  observe,  that  Fichte 
by  no  means  regards  the  resurrection  of  the  body  immediately  after  death, 
as  actually  realized  in  the  organic,  continued  existence  of  the  soul.  He  on- 
ly seeks  to  prove  physiologically  the  personality  and  individual  existence  of 
man  in  death.  But  the  further  question,  namely,  to  what  particularly  be- 
longs the  resurrection  of  the  body,  he  leaves  for  a  religious-philosophy  to 
discuss.  The  fundamental  view  in  which  he  grounds  immortality,  is  close- 
ly, though  independently,  connected  with  Goethe's  doctrine  of  an  indestruc- 
tible monad.  We  may,  undoubtedly,  greet  this  work  of  an  eminent  philos- 
opher as  an  important  advance  in  the  philosophical,  fundamental  proof  of 
immortality.  The  conviction  expressed  by  me  in  the  foregoing  essay,  that 
an  existence  in  space,  a.  where,  must  be  ascribed  to  the  departed  spirit  of  man, 
will  be  found  handled  in  the  treatise  of  Fichte,  variously,  with  the  greatest 
precision,  and  with  a  philosophical  clearness.  Would  that  he  had  been  able 
to  have  contended  successfully  for  the  widest  prevalence  of  this  conviction 
over  the  territory  of  philosophy,  where  a  belief  in  immortality  will  decay  at 
its  very  roots,  so  long  as  the  opposite  doctrine  is  predominant. 


294 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


though  it  is  unpopular,  and  I  well  know  what  it  will  cost  me,  and  what 
personal  sacrifices  I  have  been  obliged  already  to  make." 

Some  years  since,  Rilckert  published  in  two  volumes,  "  Philosophy  of 
History,  or  Philosophy  of  History  and  of  the  Bible  in  relation  to  each  other." 
In  1831,  he  brought  out  his  Commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  a 
second  edition  of  which  has  just  made  its  appearance.  The  first  edition  is 
in  a  volume  of  700  pages.  We  have  never  seen  a  copy  of  the  work,  nor 
scarcely  what  may  be  called  a  review  of  it,  in  the  German  periodicals.  In 
the  Halle  Allgemeine  Literatur  Zeitung  for  Sept.  1835,  it  is  noticed  by  an 
anonymous  critic,  who  is  apparently  under  the  influence  of  prejudice  and 
ill  will.  He  makes  a  long  parade  of  the  errors  into  which  he  says  Ruckert 
has  fallen,  while  he  scarcely  alludes  to  the  excellencies  of  the  book,  though 
he  acknowledges  that  there  are  many  things  which  are  correct  and  worthy 
of  attention.  We  apprehend  that  somewhat  of  the  reviewer's  ill-nature  is 
to  be  attributed  to  Rilckert's  independence  of  thought,  and  unwillingness  to 
fall  into  the  style  of  commentary  which  suits  so  many  of  the  gentlemen  who 
manage  the  Journal  at  Halle.  This  may  possibly  explain  some  allusions 
which  we  find  in  the  Preface  to  Rilckert's  Commentary  on  the  first  Epistle 
to  the  Corinthians,  published  at  Leipsic  in  1836.  We  quote  the  following 
sentence.  "  In  conclusion,  it  only  remains  for  me  to  express  the  wish,  that 
the  portion  of  the  public  that  have  hitherto  been  favorable  to  me,  may  still 
remain  so.  The  opponents,  in  part  the  authors  themselves  of  commenta- 
ries on  the  epistles  explained  by  me,  who  have  made  me  feel  pretty  strongly 
their  censorial  importance — even  to  menaces — are  still  at  liberty  to  exercise 
their  office  on  my  labors.  So  far  as  they  are  in  the  right,  I  will  seek  to  pro- 
fit by  their  remarks,  whether  made  in  a  friendly  or  inhuman  manner,  so  that 
my  undertaking — the  sound  interpretation  of  the  great  apostle — may  be  ad- 
vanced. What  objections  of  a  personal  nature  they  may  have  to  propound, 
1  shall,  as  hitherto,  pass  by  in  silence."  In  the  Preface  to  his  Commentary 
on  the  second  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians, published  in  1837,  he  says:  "  That 
which  I  have  accomplished  I  commit  to  the  unprejudiced  examination  of 
reasonable  critics.  Whatever  opinions  or  even  confutations  of  my  positions 
1  may  see, — for  these  I  shall  be  grateful.  Some  things  may  escape  me  in 
consequence  of  the  location  in  which  1  find  myself.  When  occasion  offers, 
earlier  or  later,  I  shall  seek  to  profit  by  these  criticisms.  On  the  first  part — 
the  Commentary  on  the  first  Epistle — no  judgment  has  been  expressed  to 
my  knowledge,  except  that  the  sale  which  it  has  found  in  the  course  of  the 
first  year,  seems  to  show  that  the  public  are  not  unfriendly  to  it." 

The  principles  on  which  Rilckert  proceeds  in  his  expositions,  are  stated  in 
the  Preface  to  his  Comment  on  the  Romans,  and  are  quoted  in  the  Review 
of  the  Halle  Journal,  above  referred  to.  '  In  the  first  place,  says  Ruckert,  a 
commentary  should  be  philological.  This  implies  an  exact  knowledge  of  the 
language  and  its  idioms  ;  an  historical  knowledge  of  all  important  matters 
relating  to  the  condition  of  the  people  and  of  the  age  to  which  the  writing 
belongs;  logic,  that  is,  a  strict  prosecution  of  the  course  of  thought,  not 
merely  from  verse  to  verse,  but  even  through  the  entire  argument  of  a  sec- 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


295 


tion  or  division,  with  an  accurate  development  of  the  proofs  adduced  by  the 
author  ;  and  imagination,  that  is,  a  lively  versatility,  by  means  of  which  the 
interpreter  divests  himself  of  his  individuality,  and  assumes  the  very  posi- 
tion of  his  author.  In  the  second  place,  a  commentary  must  be  impartial. 
The  interpreter  of  the  New  Testament  has  no  system  and  ought  to  have 
none,  neither  a  doctrinal  system,  nor  one  where  sentiment  predominates. 
As  an  exegete,  he  is  neither  orthodox  nor  heterodox,  neither  a  supernatural- 
ist,  rationalist  nor  pantheist;  he  is  actuated  neither  by  pious  feelings  nor  by 
those  of  a  contrary  character;  he  is  neither  moral  nor  immoral;  neither  of 
tender  sensibilities  nor  the  reverse.  His  only  business  is  to  investigate  the 
meaning  of  what  his  author  says,  and  to  leave  other  things  to  philosophers, 
doctrinal  writers  and  moralists.  As  an  interpreter,  his  only  interest  is  right- 
ly to  understand  his  author,  and  exhibit  his  thoughts  to  the  reader  without 
any  foreign  admixture.  In  the  third  place,  a  commentary  should  not  be 
erowded  with  matters  not  immediately  connected  with  it.'  Riickert  here  refers 
to  the  intermingling  of  illustrations  from  authors  belonging  to  other  nations 
and  times.  This  rule  is  frequently  transgressed  by  quotations  from  the 
classics.  '  Fourthly,  a  commentary  should  be  methodical.  The  sense  of  eve- 
ry passage  should  be  so  exhibited  before  the  reader,  that  he  shall  see  the 
right  explanation  gradually  developing  itself,  and  while,  with  perfect  free- 
dom his  own  thoughts  are  following  the  interpreter,  he  may  obtain  through 
him  a  correct  exegesis.' 

In  the  Preface  to  the  first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  Riickert  remarks, 
that  the  '  principles,  as  well  as  the  whole  method  of  my  interpretation,  have 
been  vehemently  assailed.  I  have  made  no  change,  because  I  remain  con- 
vinced of  the  correctness  of  these  principles.  My  mode  of  interpretation, 
and  indeed  my  whole  manner,  have  become  so  established,  that  I  could  not 
expound  in  a  different  way,  without  first  becoming  a  new  man.'  Again,  in 
the  second  Epistle.  '•  the  peculiarities  of  this  Epistle  have  compelled  me 
sometimes  to  tread  on  conjectural  ground;  and  I  have  occasionally  arrived 
at  results  which  differ  from  those  of  my  predecessors.  Still  I  am  conscious 
of  never  having  run  after  hypotheses,  and  those  which  I  have  been  com- 
pelled to  exhibit,  have  been  employed  with  that  freedom  in  the  way  of  illus- 
tration with  which  I  am  accustomed  to  regard  subjects  of  an  unusual  cha- 
racter.' 

Riickert,  so  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  judge  from  the  portions  of  his 
commentaries  which  we  have  read,  is  faithful  to  his  principles.  A  striking 
characteristic,  on  every  page,  is  the  straight  forward  manner  in  which  he 
advances  to  his  object.  He  turns  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left. 
His  single  object  is  to  develop  the  ideas  of  his  author.  In  doing  this,  he  is 
perfectly  ready  to  march  against  the  frowning  batteries  and  proudly  cher- 
ished structures  of  his  predecessors,  or  even  to  pass  on  to  his  object  without 
the  slightest  notice  of  their  labors.  This  honesty  of  aim,  this  directness  of 
purpose,  we  cannot  but  admire.  We  have  increased  confidence  in  the  in- 
vincibleness  of  truth.  We  have  more  unwavering  trust  in  those  great  doc- 
trines which  can  endure  this  sharp-sighted  critic,  which  come  out  unira- 


296 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


peached  from  the  most  severe  cross-questioning.  The  advocates  of  the  faith 
of  Jesus  are  sometimes  accused  of  timidity  when  they  approach  the  Scrip- 
tures ;  they  shrink  back  from  an  avowal  of  their  honest  opinions;  they  see 
difficulties,  it  is  said,  which  they  are  afraid  to  avow  ;  from  education  or  su- 
perstition they  are  not  accustomed  to  subject  the  Bible  to  that  rigid  canvass, 
which  they  not  only  tolerate  but  require,  in  respect  to  the  histories  of  Hume 
and  Gibbon.  Here,  however,  we  have  a  writer  who  has  no  fears  of  this 
character.  He  boldly  confronts  his  author.  He  does  not  permit  him  to 
hide  in  the  precincts  of  the  sanctuary  or  to  take  hold  of  the  horns  of  the  altar. 
He  looks  steadily  at  the  real  value  of  the  thought,  at  the  logical  coherence 
of  the  reasoning.  If  the  author  seems  to  fail  in  these  respects,  his  com 
mentator  is  not  afraid  to  say  so.  Here  we  have  accordingly,  the  testimony 
of  an  impartial  judge,  who  sets  out  with  the  determination  to  render  just 
judgment,  unwarped  by  his  imagination  or  feelings. 

It  will  be  understood,  of  course,  that  we  do  not  approve  of  all  the  modes 
of  expression  which  Rtickert  has  adopted  on  this  subject.  That  he  agrees 
substantially  with  orthodox  commentators  in  this  country,  we  have  no 
doubt.  At  the  same  time  his  views  of  the  inspiration  of  the  sacred  writers 
appear  to  be  erroneous.  We  apprehend  that  he  has  been  somewhat  influen- 
ced, insensibly,  by  the  neological  notions  prevalent  around  him.  He  does  not 
grant  that  degree  of  inspiration  to  the  sacred  penmen  which  they  justly  chal- 
lenge, and  which  infallibly  secures  them  from  error.  One  must  bear  in  mind, 
however,  the  unfriendly  climate  in  which  the  author  has  lived.  We  cannot 
judge  him  harshly,  if  we  knew  all  against  which  he,  and  men  like  him,  have 
to  contend.  Were  this  not  so,  had  the  orthodox  doctrines  prevailed  always 
and  universally  in  Germany,  still  the  modes  of  interpretation  adopted  by 
these  men  would  differ  from  our  own.  They  are  Germans.  They  are  not 
descended  from  the  English  Puritans.  They  hold  Luther  and  Melancthon 
in  the  highest  veneration.  Their  whole  system  of  intellectual  and  religious 
education  is  very  different  from  the  New  England  mode.  Instead,  however, 
of  rejecting  their  commentaries  and  theological  systems  on  this  account,  it 
becomes  us  to  study  them,  to  adopt  what  is  good,  and  to  throw  the  bad 
away.  Are  we  afraid  of  the  stability  of  our  own  views  ?  Are  we  bigotted 
enough  to  imagine  that  we  have  obtained  the  best  possible  modes  of  illus- 
trating truth  ?  Do  we  complacently  judge  that  our  minds  do  not  need  to  be 
any  further  enlarged  and  liberalized  ? 

We  may  be  here  permitted  to  say  a  word  in  regard  to  Rilckert's  principles 
of  interpretation.  As  we  find  them  stated  in  the  Halle  Journal,  they  are  li- 
able to  be  misunderstood  and  misinterpreted.  Of  the  importance  of  a  logi- 
cal mind  in  an  interpreter  of  the  Bible,  especially  of  Paul's  writings,  no 
one  can  doubt.  Paul  has  chains  of  argument,  long  and  sometimes  close  pro- 
cesses of  reasoning.  His  thoughts  are  not  thrown  out  at  hap-hazard.  At 
the  same  time,  his  writings  are  not  to  be  judged  by  the  technical  logic  of 
the  schools.  In  many  cases,  he  employs  arguments  which  may  not  be 
strictly  logical,  but  which  are  perfectly  proper,  and  fitted  to  make  a  deep  im 
pression.    In  fact  no  other  mode  of  exhibiting  a  subject  would  be  so  appro- 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


297 


priate  to  the  time,  place  and  other  circumstances.  If  they  were  dialecti- 
cally  presented,  they  would  be  uninfluential.  The  conception  owes  its  ori- 
gin to  deeper  feelings  than  those  possessed  by  the  mere  logician.  It  is  in- 
tended to  benefit  man,  who  has  a  compound  nature,  feelings,  sensibilities, 
imagination,  as  well  as  the  discursive  faculty.  1  Besides,  the  Scriptures  com- 
municate truths  which  possess  no  logical  connection,  in  the  strict  sense  of 
that  term.  They  are  revealed  facts  which  we  could  have  never  inferred 
from  any  principles  of  natural  reason.  They  are  not,  indeed,  illogical  facts. 
The  Bible  never  employs  an  inconsequential  mode  of  reasoning.  They  are 
not  barren  and  naked  facts.  They  are  fitted  most  perfectly  to  our  moral  and 
intellectual  nature.  They  satisfy  the  deepest  wants  of  our  being.  But  we 
could  not  have  inferred,  from  the  existence  of  these  wants,  the  mode  which 
God  would  have  taken  to  satisfy  them.  Neither  can  we  discover  in  many 
of  these  facts  any  thing  like  a  mathematical  connection.  It  is  a  doctrine  of 
the  Bible,  that  none  of  those  who  have  been  given  to  the  Son  shall  fail  of 
eternal  life,  or,  in  other  words,  that  all  true  Christians  shall  infallibly  be 
saved.  But  this  could  not  be  deduced  from  any  principle  in  man.  It  does 
not  follow  from  the  nature  of  true  piety,  viewed  simply  in  relation  to  its 
possessor.  It  depends  solely  on  the  power  and  promise  of  God.  In  the 
case  of  the  fallen  angels  it  would  have  been,  perhaps,  the  natural  and  ra- 
tional inference  that  they  would  have  forever  persevered  in  a  progress  to- 
wards the  great  end  of  their  original  creation.  The  provision  of  a  Saviour 
for  lost  man  could  not  have  been  logically  reasoned  out,  any  more  than  the 
want  of  such  a  provision  in  the  case  of  the  lost  angel.  It  therefore  de- 
mands sound  sense  in  the  commentator  to  judge  when  he  is  to  apply  his 
dialectical  principles.  It  may  be  that  in  some  cases,  he  ought  rather  to  re- 
fer to  his  rhetoric — to  a  cultivated  taste,  to  a  chastened  imagination,  or  to  the 
emotions  of  an  enlightened  and  ardent  piety. 

What  Riickert  says  in  respect  to  impartiality  in  a  commentator  is  perhaps 
capable  of  a  sense  altogether  right  and  proper.  He  certainly  ought  not  to 
bring  any  prejudices,  any  preconceived  opinions,  to  the  illustration  of  Scrip- 
ture. He  must  be  impartial.  If  he  is  liable  to  be  governed  by  impulse,  if 
he  has  an  unfounded  attachment  to  system,  if  he  is  a  man  of  warm  imagina- 
tion, he  must  be  particularly  on  his  guard.  The  interpreter  of  the  Bible 
must  be  free  from  bias,  from  sectarian  prejudice,  from  everything  which 
would  distort  his  judgment,  or  weaken  any  of  his  intellectual  or  moral 
powers. 

He  will  not,  however,  he  cannot  be,  without  a  theological  system.  A 
careful  and  intelligent  perusal  of  the  Scriptures  will  lead  him  to  perceive 
that  they  contain  certain  doctrines,  and  that  they  discard  certain  others 
which  have  been  attributed  to  them.  He  sees  that  the  Bible  reveals  certain 
facts.  He  believes  in  these  facts.  He  need  not  call  them  doctrines,  or  form 
them  into  a  theological  system.  But  with  this  preestablished  belief,  he  does 
proceed  to  the  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures.  It  cannot  be  otherwise. 
The  mind  of  man  is  so  formed,  that  it  must  have  a  belief  of  some  kind  or 

38 


298 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


other.  The  human  intellect  is  not  a  piece  of  white  paper.  It  is  framed  to 
perceive  truth,  and  to  delight  in  system. 

Again,  we  maintain  that  the  interpreter  must  possess  pious  feelings  in  or- 
der properly  to  expound  the  Bible.  A  neutral  condition  in  this  respect  is 
not  conceivable.  A  state  of  equipoise,  of  absolute  indifference,  is  impossi- 
ble. He  will  either  love  the  truths  of  the  Bible,  or  dislike  them.  If  the  lat- 
ter is  the  case,  he  cannot  be  a  safe  interpreter.  He  will  be  inevitably  bias- 
sed. He  will  be  insensibly  led  to  explain  away  or  confound  doctrines 
which  are  at  variance  with  his  feelings  It  will  be  very  easy  for  him  to  ar- 
ray philosophical  reasons  against  a  doctrine  which  fills  him  with  pain  or 
disgust.  This  is  exhibited  by  some  of  the  learned  and,  in  many  respects, 
excellent  commentators  of  Germany.  We  would  not  trust  some  of  them  in  the 
exposition  of  doctrines,  because  we  fear  they  have  not  the  feelings  which  qua- 
lify them  to  be  interpreters.  The  heart  is  as  necessary  as  the  head.  A 
sound  intellect  is  no  more  indispensable  than  pious  feelings  for  him  who 
would  interpret  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel.  Porson  or  Hermann  may 
interpret  Pindar  or  Horace,  but  they  are  not  competent  to  expound  Isaiah  or 
Galatians.  An  expositor  must  be  a  man,  in  the  symmetrical  or  complete 
sense  of  that  word.  Accordingly  he  must  possess  ardent  and  enlightened 
piety.  Else  he  is  essentially  deficient.  How  should  we  regard  him  who 
should  attempt  to  comment  on  Homer  or  Milton  without  a  particle  of  ima- 
gination, without  one  responsive  emotion  in  his  own  bosom  to  the  sublime 
conceptions  of  his  authors?  How  ought  we  to  look  upon  the  expositor  of 
the  Scriptures  who  has  no  heartfelt  sympathy  with  the  feelings  of  David 
and  Paul  ? 

We  may  repeat  again  that  we  are  not  to  be  considered  as  responsible  for 
every  thing  which  Ruckert  advances.  His  errors  seem  to  have  arisen  main- 
ly from  low  or  incorrect  views  of  the  nature  of  inspiration.  Accordingly, 
he  treats  the  inspired  apostle  too  much  as  he  would  a  pagan  Greek  or 
Roman.  In  some  cases,  we  have  added  notes,  which  give  the  views  of  other 
commentators.  We  have  not  judged  it  necessary,  however,  to  do  this  in  eve- 
ry instance.  Thus  on  pp.  274,  275,  and  elsewhere,  Ruckert  takes  for  granted, 
as  many  other  Germans  do,  that  Paul  expected  to  live  till  the  second  com- 
ing of  Christ,  or  at  least  that  he  believed  that  coming  to  be  very  near.  No- 
thing, however,  is  to  be  admitted  on  this  difficult  point  which  will  conflict 
with  the  inspiration  of  the  apostle,  especially  since  he  has  himself  asserted, 
2Thess.  II.,  that  important  events  were  to  precede  the  coming  of  the  Lord 
On  the  passage  relating  to  this  subject  in  our  epistle,  and  in  the  epistles  to 
the  Thessalonians,  the  remarks  of  Grotius,  Calvin,  Schott,  Pelt  and  Bloom- 
field  may  be  consulted. 

We  may  here  mention,  that  remarks  of  a  critical  nature  in  the  text,  ana 
those  included  in  parentheses,  we  have  frequently  transferred  to  the  bottom 
of  the  page  as  notes. 

NOTE  B,  p.  233. 

We  translate  the  following  remark  from  the  author's  Introduction  to  his 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


299 


Commentary,  in  respect  to  the  words  tv  ttqujtois.  '  In  and  of  themselves,  in- 
deed, the  words  can  mean  nothing  else,  than  that  the  Corinthians  were 
among  the  first  who  received  the  message  concerning  the  death  and  resur- 
rection of  Christ.  But  it  is  not  necessary  to  understand  the  words  in  the 
strictest  sense.  It  is  possible  to  regard  Corinth,  which  was  actually  the  fact, 
as  one  of  the  first  cities  of  Achaia  to  which  the  gospel  was  preached,'  etc. 
Olshausen  remarks :  '  The  ixquna,  among  which  he  includes  the  points 
which  he  immediately  subjoins,  are  what  are  designated  in  Heb.  6:  1  seq.,  as 
dcfitha  or  aroiytia.  The  death,  burial  and  resurrection  of  Jesus  were  the 
only  topics  which  he  made  prominent,'  etc.  Comm.  p.  678.  Billroth  ap- 
proves of  Chrysostom's  explanation  ;  '  and  not  only  so,  but  the  doctrine  was 
a  necessary  one,  wherefore  it  was  delivered  tv  7TQOjroig/  etc.  Billroth  p.  206. 
Flatt  p.  354,  accords  with  Chrysostom,  '  It  was  the  first,  and  at  the  same 
time,  the  most  special  instruction,'  etc.  See  Heydenreich  II.  p.  458.  '  The 
resurrection  was  preached  by  him  and  made,  as  it  were,  the  principal  topic 
of  the  gospel.  It  was  in  a  manner  the  foundation  of  the  structure,'  Calvin 
L.  p.  387.  The  interpretation  suggested  by  Rackert  seems  to  us  to  be  forced 
and  unnatural.  Is  not  the  expression  illustrated  by  what  Paul  says,  1  Cor. 
2:  2,  1  For  1  determined  not  to  know  any  thing  among  you  save  Jesus  Christ 
and  him  crucified  f  The  following  passages  from  the  Sept.  may  throw  some 
light  on  the  phrase  iv  ttqo'toiq,  1  And  he  placed  the  two  maid  servants  and 
their  children  first,  iv  7tqojtoic,'  Gen.  33:  2.  1  And  David  said,  whoever 
smiteth  the  Jebusite^rsi,  tv  ttqo^toi?.  ' 

NOTE  C,  p.  236. 

1  Without  doubt,'  remarks  Billroth, '  on  the  way  to  Damascus.'  In  1  Cor. 
9:  1  Paul  says  :  '  Have  J  not  seen  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ?'  This  Billroth 
refers  to  the  appearance  narrated  Acts  IX.  XXII.  and  XXVI.  <  Paul  is  here 
asserting  his  apostolic  dignity,  in  respect  to  which  he  was  on  an  equality 
with  the  other  apostles.  It  was  necessary  that  Christ  should  have  appeared 
to  him  in  the  same  manner  that  he  did  to  them,  after  his  resurrection.'  See 
Gal.  1:  16.  <  It  must  be  clear  to  every  unprejudiced  mind  that  1  Cor.  9:  1, 
cannot  refer  to  Paul's  having  seen  Jesus  during  his  life  on  earth,  though  the 
thing  itself  is  possible;  for  this  would  have  no  connection  with  his  apostolic 
calling ;  nor  can  it  refer  to  a  mere  perception  and  acknowledgement  of  the 
doctrine  of  Christ'  Neander  Pflanzung,  1.  p.  112.  See  also  Olshausen  on 
1  Cor.  9:  1.    Flatt  p.  357. 

NOTE  D,  p.  244. 

Various  attempts  have  been  made  to  reconcile  the  reasoning  of  Paul  with 
the  rules  of  the  logicians,  or  to  show  how  it  legitimately  follows  that  the  re- 
surrection of  believers  will  take  place  in  consequence  of  the  resurrection  of 
Christ.  Our  author  seems  to  imply  that  there  is  some  deficiency  in  the  rea- 
soning of  the  apostle,  that  his  premises  do  not  support  his  conclusions.  Is 
it  a  case,  however,  where  the  formulae  of  logic  are  applicable  ?    Does  Paul 


300 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


here  intend  to  reason  dialectically  ?  Does  he  mean  to  assert  any  philoso- 
phical connection  between  the  physical  laws  of  one  being  and  those  of 
others,  between  Christ's  body  and  those  of  the  Corinthian  Christians  ? 
Would  it  follow  logically  that  the  bodies  of  all  Christians  shall  be  raised 
from  the  grave,  because  there  had  been  a  single  instance,  that  of  Christ, 
showing  the  possibility  of  the  thing  ?  Was  an  example  of  the  possibility 
necessary  after  the  raising  of  Lazarus?  Might  we  not,  on  good  grounds, 
argue  that  the  redemption  wrought  out  by  Christ  would  have  received 
a  perfect  accomplishment  in  the  eternal  salvation  of  the  f/isembodied  spirits 
of  all  believers  ? 

Is  not  Paul  here  stating  a  revealed  fact  ?  Does  he  not  remind  the  Corin- 
thians that  what  he  had  preached  to  them  as  the  gospel,  and  which  had 
been  communicated  to  him  by  direct  revelation,  included  in  its  promised 
results  the  resurrection  of  the  body;  1hat  salvation  would  not  be  complete 
without  the  resurrection  of  the(  bodies  of  all  who  slept  in  Jesus; — that  as  the 
sin  of  Adam  had  brought  death  upon  the  body,  thus  the  righteousness  of 
Christ  would  impart  life  to  that  body — so  that  in  every  respect  Christ  might 
come  off  conqueror,  yea  more  than  conqueror  ! 

It  is  certain  that  great  prominence  is  given  by  the  apostles  to  the  fact  of 
the  resurrection  of  Jesus.  Thus  Paul,  1  That  they  should  live  not  unto 
themselves  but  for  him  who  died  for  them  and  rose  again.'  1  Who  was  de- 
livered for  our  offences  and  raised  again  for  our  justification.'  '  That  he 
might  free  us  from  the  punishment  due  to  our  sins.'  '  And  if  thou  believest 
in  thy  heart  that  God  raised  him  from  the  dead,  thou  shalt  be  saved.'  At 
Athens  Paul  preached  Jesus  and  the  resurrection.  Peter  writes,  1  by  the 
resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead  we  are  begotten  again  to  a  lively 
hope,'  of  obtaining  an  unfading  and  an  eternal  inheritance. 

It  appears,  likewise,  to  have  been  a  current  doctrine  in  the  preaching  of 
the  apostles,  that  the  bodies  of  the  saints  should  as  certainly  share  in  the  fe- 
licity of  heaven  as  their  spirits — that  in  both  respects  they  should  be  like 
their  glorified  head,  f  Who  shall  change — transfigure — our  vile  body  and 
fashion  it  like  unto  his  glorious  body.'  1  Who  is  the  beginning,  the  first 
born  from  the  dead,  that  in  all  things  he  might  have  the  preeminence.'  '  For 
if  we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  so  also  those  who  sleep  in  Je- 
sus will  God  bring  with  him.' 

NOTE  E,p.2r,t. 

Temporal  Death.  It  will  be  seen  that  Calvin  accords  with  Rjckert.  "  The 
cause  of  death  is  Adam,, and  we  die  in  him;  therefore  Christ,  whose  office 
is  to  restore  what  we  lost  in  Adam,  is  to  us  the  cause  of  life,  and  his  resur- 
rection is  the  foundation  and  pledge  of  ours.  As  the  one  was  the  original 
of  death,  so  the  other  is  of  life.  The  apostle  pursues  the  same  comparison 
in  the  fifth  chapter  to  the  Romans,  with  this  difference,  that  there  he  treats 
of  spiritual  life  and  death,  but  here  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  which  is 
the  fruit  of  spiritual  life."  Comm.  in  Eph.  I.  3(.>2.     "  Altogether  similar  to 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


301 


Rom.  5:  12  seq.,  except  that  there  the  reference  to  spiritual  life  predomi- 
nates." Olshausen,  p.  684.  "  In  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  death  and  the 
resurrection  are  not  expressly  contrasted,  but  death  and  life,  xardy.Qijua  and 
Sixai'ojoig  ^ojt]q,  from  which  last,  however,  the  resurrection  follows."  Bill- 
roth Comm.  p.  217. 

NOTE  F,  p.  253. 

Resurrection  of  the  wicked.  From  the  passage,  Acts  24:  15  and  the  con- 
text, we  learn  that  the  doctrine  of  a  resurrection  of  the  unjust,  as  well  as  of 
the  just,  belonged  to  the  general  strain  of  the  apostle's  preaching.  He  asserts 
that  he  worships  the  same  God  with  the  Jews,  receives  the  same  sacred 
books,  and  has  the  same  belief  in  the  resurrection  both  of  the  good  and  the 
bad.  Christ  himself  says,  John  5:  28,  29,  <  All  who  are  in  their  graves  shall 
hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  Man,  and  those  who  have  done  well  shall  come 
forth  to  the  resurrection  of  life,  those  who  have  done  evil  to  the  resurrection 
of  condemnation.'  This  was  a  common  mode  of  speech  among  the  Jews, 
Mace.  7:  14.  12:  43.  Dan.  12:  3.  Compare  also  Rev.  20:  5,  G.  1  Thess.4:  16. 

NOTE  G,  p.  259.  . 

Baptism  for  the  Dead.  It  seems  from  Tertullian,  that  there  were  heads  of 
families  in  the  East,  who,  on  a  particular  day  every  year,  namely  on  the 
Calends  of  February,  renewed  the  rite  of  baptism  in  behalf  of  their  friends 
who  had  died  without  baptism,  in  imitation  of  the  Feralia  instituted  by  the 
Romans,  and  observed  in  February.  The  object  of  the  feast  and  sacrifices, 
was  to  obtain  rest  for  the  souls  of  their  departed  friends.  "  The  apostle, 
however,"  adds  Tertullian,  "ought  not  to  be  considered  the  author  or  fa- 
vorer of  this  custom."  "  Noli  apostolum  novum  statim  auctorern  aut  con- 
firmatorem  eum  denotare,  ut  tanto  magis  sisteret  carnis  resurrectionem, 
quanto  illi,  qui  vane  pro  mortuis  baptizarentur,  fide  resurrectionis  hoc  face- 
rent.  Habemus  ilium  alicubi  unius  baptismi  definitorem.  Igitur  pro  mortuis 
tingui,  pro  corporibus  est  tingui."  These  last  words  seem  to  intimate  the 
manner  in  which  Tertullian  construed  the  passage  before  us.  Tertull.  Adv. 
Marcion.  v.  10.  "  Si  et  baptizantur  quidam  pro  mortuis,  videbimus,  an  ra- 
tione  ?  Certe  ilia  presumtione  hoc  eos  instituisse  contendit,  qua  alii  etiam 
carni  vicarium  baptisma  profutururn  ad  spem  resurrectionis,  quae  nisi  cor- 
poralis,  non  alius  hie  baptismate  corporali  obligaretur."  See  the  passages 
in  Semler'.s  ed.  of  Tertull.  1,  351.  III.  242.  Also  Heydenreich  Comm.  Li, 
518.  The  following  passage  is  translated  from  Epiphanius  Haer.  48.  p.  113, 
edit.  Colon.  u  For  in  this  country,  1  speak  of  Asia,  and  also  in  Galatia,  the 
opinion  of  these  persons  was  widely  spread  Some  report  of  it  has  come 
down  to  us.  It  is  this  :  when  any  individuals  among  them  had  died  without 
baptism,  others  were  baptized  into  their  name  instead  of  them,  lest,  being 
unbaptized,  they  might  be  raised  at  the  resurrection  to  condemnation  and 
punishment."    Chrysostom,  Homil.  40  in  Cor.,  remarks,  M  When  a  death 


302 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


occurred  among  them,  they  concealed  a  living  man  under  the  couch  of  him 
who  had  died,  and  approached  the  deceased  with  the  inquiry,  <  whether  he 
desired  to  receive  baptism.'  He  making  no  reply,  the  one  concealed  be- 
neath him,  then  answered,  1  that  he  desired  to  be  baptized,'  and  so  they  bap- 
tized him  in  the  place  of  the  departed."  The  following  is  the  commentary 
of  Ambrose.  "  Paul,  in  order  to  show  that  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection 
was  perfectly  established,  quoted  the  example  of  those  persons,  who  were  so 
secure  of  a  future  resurrection,  that  they  were  even  baptized  for  the  dead,  if 
one  died  before  having  received  that  rite,  fearing  either  that  the  deceased 
would  not  rise  at  all,  or  only  to  condemnation.  Thus  a  living  man  was  bap- 
tized in  the  name  of  the  dead.  Whence  Paul  subjoins,  ;  Why  are  they  bap- 
tized for  them  ?'  By  this  example,  he  did  not  approve  their  custom,  but  by 
it  he  wished  to  show  how  firm  was  the  faith  in  a  resurrection." 

Perhaps  the  quotations  above  will  not  be  regarded  by  all  as  sufficient  to 
prove  the  existence  of  the  custom  in  the  primitive  churches,  or  at  least  that 
it  was  a  custom  adopted  extensively  enough  to  allow  of  the  apostle's  refer- 
ence to  it.  As  Heydenreich  remarks,  we  can  never  come  to  entire  satisfac- 
tion in  respect  to  it.  Paul  speaks  of  a  usage  which  was  perfectly  well- 
known  to  the  Corinthians,  while  contemporary  notices  of  it  are  wanting  to 
us.  In  favor  of  the  interpretation  above  maintained,  we  have  the  very  im- 
portant consideration  that  every  word  is  taken  in  its  natural  sense,  and  thu^ 
the  exposition  originates  from  the  words  themselves.  Most,  if  not  all  the 
other  modes  of  solution,  do  violence,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to  some  one 
if  not  to  all  the  words  in  the  clause.  Olshausen  says,  'that  if  representative 
baptism  be  referred  to,  an  approbation  of  the  custom  certainly  lies  in  the 
passage,  for  its  whole  scope  rests  on  the  ground  that  if  the  dead  are  raised, 
then  they  will  have  gained  something  by  the  fact  that  the  rite  had  been  per- 
formed for  them.'  But  may  it  not  be  a  mere  argumentum  ad  horninem  ?  the 
employment  of  that  which  would  be  a  good  argument  in  the  view  of  the  per- 
sons addressed  ?  Is  it  not  similar  to  Matt.  12:  27,  "  And  if  1  by  Beelzebub 
cast  out  devils,  by  whom  do  your  children  cast  them  out,  therefore  they  shall 
be  your  judges?"  Whitby  remarks  on  this  passage,  as  quoted  by  Dr.  Scott, 
that  "  Christ  uses  this  as  an  argument  ad  homines  ;  that  they  who  professed 
themselves  to  cast  out  devils  by  the  God  of  Abraham,  had  no  reason  to  say, 
that  he  did  it  by  the  prince  of  devils."  Certainly  Christ  is  not  to  be  under- 
stood by  this  language  to  approve  of  the  practice  of  exorcism.  As  little  may 
Paul  be  supposed  to  approve  of  representative  baptism.  It  is  possible  that 
at  some  other  time  he  expressly  discountenanced  it.  Or  he  might  have 
viewed  it,  as  Itilckert  intimates,  as  one  of  those  comparatively  harmless  ob- 
servances which  would  soon  disappear  of  itself,  if  it  were  not  harshly  de- 
nounced. Tt  seems  to  us  to  be  a  much  more  rational  exegesis  than  that  of 
Olshausen,  who  supposes  that  before  the  coming  of  Christ  and  the  resurrec- 
tion, there  must  be  a  definite  number  of  believers — the  fullness  must  come 
in.  This  must  take  place  before  the  dead  could  be  raised.  All  then  who 
were  baptized,  in  a  sense  benefitted  the  dead— did  that  which  was  necessary 
before  the  dead  could  rise. 


MOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


303 


NOTE  II,  p.  261. 

Jotacism.  The  common  usage  of  the  Reuchlinian  pronunciation  is  the 
following  :  rj  is  pronounced  like*;  the  diphthong  ai  like  e  in  there ;  the 
diphthongs  u,  oi3  v  and  vi,  are  all  not  to  be  distinguished  from  i}  etc.  This 
mode  of  pronunciation  is  sometimes  called  lotacism  or  Itacism  (i  as  in  ma- 
chine) because  it  gives  to  so  many  vowels  the  sound  of  c.  See  Robinson's 
Buttmann,  p.  23. 

\     iNOTE  1,  p.  271. 

Docetac.  The  Docetae  were  a  sect  of  the  Gnostics  who  held  that  Jesus 
Christ  was  a  mere  phantasm,  (fdvraafiUj  destitute  of  a  real  body,  that  he 
lived,  labored  and  suffered  only  in  appearance.  The  first  Epistle  of  John 
belongs  to  that  age,  when  this  Docetic  or  Gnostic  error  was  gradually  be- 
coming more  dangerous,  and  specially  in  Asia  Minor.  The  Manichaeans 
held  that  Christ  descended  from  the  sun  in  a  seeming  body,  to  lead  men  to 
the  worship  of  the  true  God.  It  is  supposed  that  1  John  I:  1—3,  and  4:  1  — 
6  were  designed  to  oppose  the  doctrine  of  the  Docetae.  See  Fosdick's  Hug, 
p.  732,  Cunningham's  Gieseler  I.  69,  Liicke  Comm.  on  Ep.  John  Einl.  62. 

NOTE  J,  p.  278. 

We  do  not  print  these  remarks  of  Lange  as  a  supplement  to,  or  a  carry- 
ing out  of  the  views  of  Ruckert.  Many  of  them  are  rather  to  be  consider- 
ed as  a  counterpart.  As  speculations,  they  may  have,  or  may  not  have, 
foundation  in  truth.  They  are  of  such  a  nature  that  nothing  positive  can 
be  affirmed  of  them.  Some  of  them,  however,  appear  to  have  no  solid  foun- 
dation. Such,  undoubtedly,  are  his  notions  on  the  form  or  external  cover- 
ing, which  he  supposes  the  spirit  will  assume  from  the  place  or  sphere  of  its 
future  abode.  There  are  also  passages  of  Scripture  which,  it  seems  to  us, 
he  does  not  rightly  interpret.  We  object  also  to  the  air  of  dogmatism  with 
which  some  things  are  propounded.  Lange  speaks  with  the  confidence  of 
one  who  actually  knows.  Why  then,  it  maybe  asked,  is  the  Article  insert- 
ed ?  We  answer,  first,  because  it  contains  interesting  truth,  or  at  least  hints 
and  suggestions,  on  topics  of  intense  personal  concern  to  every  human  be- 
ing. Who  can  look  with  indifference  on  the  events  which  await  him  as  a 
disembodied  spirit,  or  on  the  condition  of  his  body,  when  it  shall  be  raised 
from  the  tomb?  The  attempt  to  repress  curiosity  on  this  subject,  by  calling 
hard  names,  as  Gnosticism,  mysticism,  and  the  like,  is  vain.  From  the  in- 
most recesses  of  our  being,  we  rebel  against  any  restraint  of  this  kind.  We 
are  not  at  liberty,  indeed,  to  state  as  scriptural  truth,  what  we  may  imagine 
or  conjecture.  We  must  not  avow  our  surmises  as  articles  of  belief.  Still, 
we  have  no  right  to  discourage  the  efforts  which  the  human  mind  makes  in 
this  direction,  so  long  as  they  do  not  contradict  the  Bible.  What  is  Para- 
dise Lost  but  a  series  of  lofty  imaginations,  on  subjects  where  the  Scriptures 


304 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


afford  but  a  slight  basis  ?  And  yet  who  condemns  the  great  poet  ?  Second- 
ly, the  article  of  Lange  is  a  specimen  of  the  boundless  fertility  of  the  Ger- 
man mind.  The  creation  would  seem  to  be  ransacked — and  sometimes  the 
Germans  launch  forth  extra  flammantia  moenia  mundi — for  every  possible 
topic  of  discussion  and  speculation.  Can  we  altogether  blame  them  in  this 
matter  ?  The  human  intellect  when  its  energies  are  repressed  in  one  direc- 
tion, will  burst  out  in  another.  If  scope  for  practical  effort  is  denied,  it  will 
adventure  itself  on  a  course  of  the  most  hardy  theorizing.  We  Americans, 
however,  may  derive  benefit  from  becoming  acquainted  with  the  irrepressi- 
ble energy  of  the  Germans.  We  are  in  little  danger  of  losing  our  practical 
individuality,  or  of  adopting  what  we  do  not  believe.  But  if  we  do  not,  in 
our  fancied  perfection,  gain  any  new  views  of  truth  or  duty,  we  may  receive 
some  recompense  in  the  increased  activity  of  our  minds.  We  may  derive 
benefit  by  being  thrown  out  of  the  range  of  our  hackneyed  habits  of  think- 
ing. 

In  the  remarks  of  Lange,  also,  we  have  a  striking  contrast  to  the  com- 
mentary of  Riickert.  The  latter  is  strictlv  exegetical — an  exposition  of  the 
text  and  nothing  else.  Lange  enters  on  a  different  field,  and  if  he  accom- 
plishes nothing  else,  will,  at  least,  show  by  contrast  the  value  of  a  gen- 
uine commentator.  That  he  has  done  more  than  this,  however,  we  think 
all  candid  judges  will  admit. 

Of  the  author  we  know  nothing,  except  that  he  is  a  preacher  in  Duis- 
burg.  His  remarks,  here  translated,  are  found  in  Stud.  u.  Krit.  Vol.  IX.  pp. 
(593  —7  1  3.  The  Article  of  Mailer,  to  which  Lange  refers  in  the  beginning 
of  his  remarks,  is  found  on  pp.  703 — 796,  of  the  8th  vol.  of  that  work.  Rich- 
ter's  essay  was  entitled,  "  The  Doctrine  of  the  Last  Things."  This  was 
reviewed  by  Weisse  in  the  Journal  of  Philosophical  Criticism  for  Septem- 
ber, 1833  ;  and  again  in  the  same  periodical  in  January,  1834,  by  Gdschel. 
In  1834,  Weisse  published  a  pamphlet  with  the  title,  "  The  philosophical, 
mysterious  doctrine  of  the  Immortality  of  the  individual  Man."  In  the  same 
year,  Fichte  published  "  The  Idea  of  Personality  and  of  the  individual,  con- 
tinued Existence."  This  last  was  subsequently  reviewed  by  Weisse.  These 
various  essays  and  reviews  are  made  the  subject  of  the  Article  by  Muller  to 
which  Lange  refers.  Professor  Muller  concludes  as  follows :  "  Thus  we 
have,  in  the  foregoing  essays  and  papers,  three  different  attempts  to  estab- 
lish, on  philosophical  grounds,  the  faith  in  a  personal  immortality."  "  In 
conclusion,  the  reviewer  cannot  conceal  his  conviction  that  philosophy  can 
never  furnish  any  proof,  strictly  considered,  for  a  personal  immortality,  so 
that  from  the  idea  of  personality,  the  imperishable,  continued  existence  of  a 
being  to  whom  that  personality  belongs,  would  follow  with  absolute  neces- 
sity." "  An  unconditional  and  perfect  necessity  belongs  only  to  the  eter- 
nity of  God,  as  an  absolute  Being,  who  has  the  ground  of  existence  in  him- 
self. In  this  sense,  he  is  the  only  one  who  hath  immortality,  1  Tim.  6:  1C. 
That  God  is  mortal,  that  he  can  cease  to  exist,  is  a  manifest  inconsistency, 
it  is  something  absolutely  inconceivable.  But  in  the  supposition  that  a  cre- 
ated being  may  cease  to  exist,  as  he  had  an  origin,  there  is  no  absolute  con- 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


305 


tradictjon.  The  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  this  personality  certainly 
leads  to  the  recognition  of  its  immortality,  and  it  exists  in  close  relation  with 
it.  But  this  relation  can  hy  no  means  be  regarded  in  the  form  of  a  necessa- 
ry conclusion  from  the  personality."  The  author  then  remarks,  that  philo- 
sophy finds  its  appropriate  place  in  confirming  and  illustrating  the  revela- 
tions of  Christianity  on  this  subject. 

We  may  here  mention  that  Mailer  is,  or  was  lately,  a  professor  at  Gottin- 
gen.  Goschel  is  a  professor  at  Berlin,  lmmanuel  Hermann  Fichte  is  a  son 
of  the  celebrated  philosopher,  whose  life  he  has  published.  He  is  himself 
an  able  philosophical  writer,  and  is  a  professor  at  a  gymnasium  at  Dussel- 
dorf.  Christian  Hermann  Weisse  was  born  at  Leipsicin  1801.  Since  1827, 
he  has  been  professor  of  philosophy  at  Leipsic.  He  has  distinguished  him- 
self by  his  spirit  and  acuteness  in  philosophical  investigations,  at  first  in  the 
manner  of  Hegel,  but  of  late  with  more  independence. 

In  the  8th  vol.  of  the  Stud.  u.  Krit.,  J.  O.  Mailer,  a  licentiate  of  theology 
at  Bale,  has  inserted  an  essay  on  the  question,  '  Is  not  the  doctrine  of  the  Re- 
surrection of  the  Body  one  of  the  ancient  Persian  Doctrines  ?'  He  contends, 
in  opposition  to  Havernick,  that  it  was  one  of  the  articles  of  belief  in  the 
old  Parsee  system.  In  the  9th  vol.  pp.  187 — 219,  Weisse  reviews  a  volume 
of  Goschel  entitled,  '  Proofs  of  the  Immortality  of  the  Human  Soul.'  Gos- 
chel, in  the  same  volume,  presents  a  positive  philosophical  theory  on  the  soul 
and  immortality,  and  endeavors  to  show  that  the  doctrine  of  immortalit}'  is 
not  peculiar  to  any  one  philosophical  system,  but  is  the  united  result  and 
import  of  all  the  philosophical  investigations  of  all  times  and  of  all  philoso- 
phical schools.  Weisse  finds  occasion  to  controvert  some  of  the  main  posi- 
tions of  Goschel.  In  the  subsequent  number  of  the  work,  Weisse  himself 
has  inserted  an  essay  of  more  than  150  pages  on  the  Philosophical  Import  of 
the  Christian  Doctrine  of  the  Last  Things.  We  have  also  a  paper  in  the 
same  volume  from  the  pen  of  Weizel,  a  repetent  in  Tabingen,  on  the  primi- 
tive christian  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  These  references 
will  serve  to  show  the  fertility  of  the  Germans,  and  the  interest  which  is 
felt  on  this  and  on  kindred  subjects. 

NOTE  K,  p.  278. 

Eschatology. — This  is  from  the  Greek  eoyaxos  Xoyog,  '  Doctrine  of  the  Last 
Things,'  Res  ultimae  aut  novissimae.  Four  subjects  are  commonly  em- 
braced in  the  term,  viz.  death,  resurrection,  judgment,  the  end  of  the  world. 

NOTE  L,  p.  279. 

'  The  opponents  of  Origen  among  the  Greeks  and  Latins  began  to  insist, 
that  not  merely  the  resurrection  of  the  body  (corporis)  should  be  taught,  but 
also  carnis  (crassae).  The  older  fathers  used  corpus  and  caro  interchangeably, 
as  was  also  done  in  the  older  symbols,  and  intended  by  the  use  of  these  terms 
to  denote  only  that  there  would  be  no  new  creation  of  a  body  ;  since  both  of 

39 


306 


NOTES   BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


these  terms,  according  to  the  Heb.  usus  loquendi,  are  synonymes,  as  when 
we  speak  in  reference  to  the  Lord's  Sapper,  of  the  corpus  and  caro  Christi. 
But  since  caro  implies,  according  to  the  same  idiom,  the  associated  idea  of 
weakness  and  mortality,  it  was  abandoned  by  many  who  wished  to  use  lan- 
guage with  more  precision,  and  instead  of  it,  the  phrase  resurrectio  corporis 
was  adopted.  It  was  on  this  account  that  the  Chiliasts  insisted  so  much  the 
more  urgently  upon  retaining  the  terms  ad^  and  caro.'  Woods's  Trans,  of 
Knapp,  II  633. 

NOTE  M,  p.  282. 

Lange  here  refers,  in  a  short  paragraph  which  we  omit,  to  some  specula- 
tions of  Goethe,  which  may  be  found  in  Mrs.  Austin's  Translation,  I.  Go. 
The  speculations  were  thrown  out  in  the  course  of  a  conversation  between 
Goethe  and  Von  Falk,  on  the  day  of  the  funeral  of  Wieland.  The  friends 
were  conversing  in  respect  to  the  actual  condition  of  the  departed  soul  of 
the  poet.  '  The  destruction  of  such  high  powers,'  said  Goethe,  <  is  a  thing 
that  never,  and  under  no  circumstances,  can  even  come  into  question.  Na- 
ture is  not  such  a  prodigal  spendthrift  of  her  capital.  Wieland's  soul  is  one 
of  nature's  treasures;  a  perfect  jewel.'  Goethe  then  goes  on  to  develop 
his  theory,  or  speculation,  for  it  can  be  called  nothing  more,  concerning 
monades.  '  I  assume  various  classes  and  orders  of  the  primary  elements  of 
all  existences,  as  the  germs  of  all  phenomena  in  nature;  these  1  would  call 
souls,  since  from  them  proceeds  the  animation  or  vivification  of  the  whole. 
Or  rather  monades : — Let  us  always  stick  to  that  Leibnitzian  term  ;  a  better 
can  scarcely  be  found,  to  express  the  simplicity  of  the  simplest  existence. 
Now,  as  experience  shows  us,  some  of  these  monades  or  germs  are  so  small, 
so  insignificant,  that  they  are,  at  the  highest,  adapted  only  to  a  subordinate 
use  and  being.  Others,  again,  are  strong  and  powerful.  These  latter,  ac- 
cordingly, draw  into  their  sphere  all  that  approaches  them,  and  transmute  it 
into  something  belonging  to  themselves  ;  i.  c.  into  a  human  body,  into  a 
plant,  an  animal,  or,  to  go  higher  still,  into  a  star.  This  process  they  con- 
tinue till  the  small  or  larger  world,  whose  completion  lies  predestined  in 
them,  at  length  comes  bodily  into  light.' 

NOTE  N,  p.  285. 

'  The  apostle  shows  no  fear  of  death,  since  he  is  ready  to  die,  if  it  be  ne- 
cessary. Still  he  is  a  man,  and  has  not  thrown  off  man's  nature  so  as  to 
make  us  believe  that  he  had  a  stoical  contempt  of  death  ;  otherwise,  he 
would  not  have  expressed  such  thoughts  as  he  has  in  2  Cor.  J :  8—11.  Here, 
however,  he  seeks  to  explain  in  a  christian  mariner  that  fear  of  death 
which  is  fixed  in  human  nature,  and  also  in  his  nature,  while  he  teaches  us 
that  there  is  cause  for  feeling,  not  because  Christians  dread  annihilation,  or 
that  they  see  ground  for  fear  in  respect  to  their  eternal  life,  but  merely 
from  dread  of  the  process  of  unclothing,  in  which  the  soul  becomes  an  ex- 
ile from  its  home.    Therefore  we  groan,  says  he,  and  feel  ourselves  bur- 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


307 


dened,  since  we  do  not  desire  to  be  unclothed,  but  rather  to  be  clothed  upon, 
that  mortality  might  be  swallowed  up  of  life,  that  is,  we  would  desire  such 
a  change,  that,  without  the  bitter  separation  of  the  soul  from  the  covering 
which  now  surrounds  it,  we  might,  as  it  were,  put  on  the  new  garment  over 
the  old,  and  then  the  living  principle  of  life  in  the  new,  would  destroy  the 
principle  of  corruption  in  the  old  ;  we  would  become  immortal  without  pass- 
ing the  gates  of  death.  In  respect  to  the  possibility  or  impossibility  of  it, 
he  says  nothing  ;  still  less  does  he  undertake  to  point  out  the  mode  or  man- 
ner in  which  the  thing  might  take  place.  It  was  enough  for  him  to  show 
what  that  is  which  the  heart,  properly  speaking,  feels,  and  what  is  the  na- 
ture of  the  wish  which  lies  at  the  ground  of  the  universal  dread  of  death.' 
Ruckert,  Comm.  on  2  Cor.  5:  4,  p.  149. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO 


W.  G.  TENNEMANN. 


I 


LIFE   OF  PLATO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BIRTH    AND  EDUCATION. 

Plato  was  descended  from  an  ancient  and  noble  stock.  The  cel- 
ebrated Codrus,  the  last  king  of  Attica,  was  an  ancestor  of  his  father. 
His  mother,  Perictione,  derived  her  descent  from  Dropides,  the  bro- 
ther of  Solon.1  Were  we  to  credit  the  fabulous  reports  of  many- 
ancient  writers,  our  philosopher  must  have  owed  his  existence  to 
Apollo,  who  is  said  to  have  introduced  himself  to  Perictione  under 
the  form  of  a  serpent.2  The  report  that  Ariston  did  not  cohabit 
with  his  wife  until  she  had  borne  Plato,  and  that  this,  according  to 
the  statement  of  others,  was  enjoined  upon  him  in  a  dream,  might 
excite  the  suspicion,  that  possibly,  the  whole  thing  was  fabricated, 
for  some  special  object,  in  the  early  times  of  Christianity,  if  it  had 
not  been  mentioned  by  the  older  writers,  as  Speusippus,  Clearchus 
and  Anaxilides.  These,  however,  are  far  from  asserting  it  as  an  ac- 
tual fact,  but,  they  very  readily  admit,  that  it  rests  on  mere  rumors 
which  were  current  at  Athens.  After  the  birth  of  Christ,  when  faith 
in  miracles  had  found  a  number  of  apostles,  the  wonderful  story  in 
question  would  not  have  been  doubled  by  a  multitude  of  writers. 
The  superstitious  Plutarch  speaks  with  much  earnestness  in  relation 
to  it,  and  affirms  that  Apollo  could  have  had  no  reason  to  have  been 
ashamed  of  his  son.3  Olympiodorus  says  that  Plato  gave  himself 
out  to  be  the  son  of  Apollo  from  the  fact  that  he  considered  himself 
to  be,  along  with  the  swans,  a  servant  of  that  god.  Here,  however, 
Plato  has  reference  to  Socrates.4    Like  many  similar  things,  this 

1  Apuleius,  Leyden  1623,  p.  265.  Diogenes  Laertius,  111.  1.  Olympiodo- 
rus (Life  of  Plato  prefixed  to  Tauchn.  ed.  Lips.  1820,)  deduces  his  origin  on 
the  father's  side  from  Solon,  and  on  the  mother's  from  Codrus,  in  opposition 
to  the  express  testimony  of  other  writers.  [<  Relative  olxtlosj  not  brother,' 
Boeckh]. 

8  Apul.  p  265.  Diog.  111.  2.  Plutarch,  Sympos.  VIII.  1.  Olympiodorus. 
3  Plut.  Sympos.  VIII.  1.  4  Phaedo,  Vol.  I.  p.  193,  Bip.  Ed.  of  Plato. 


312 


MFE  OF  PLATO. 


strange  report,  probably,  owes  its  origin  to  a  mere  play  of  the  ima- 
gination, occasion  for  which  was  possibly  furnished  by  some  inci- 
dents which  might  have  happened  to  his  mother,  but  more  especial- 
ly from  the  circumstance,  that  he  was  born  on  the  same  day  in  which 
Apollo  saw  the  light.  The  birth-day  of  Plato  was  the  seventh  of 
the  month  Thargelion,  which  was  afterwards  observed  by  the  disci- 
ples of  Plato  as  a  festival.1 

Authors  are  not  agreed  respecting  the  year  of  his  birth.  I  will 
mention  the  different  statements,  and  by  comparing  them,  seek  to 
ascertain  which  is  the  most  probable.  According  to  the  testimony 
of  Fhavorinus,2  certain  writers  report  that  he  was  not  born  at  Athens, 
but  on  the  island  ^Egina,  whither  the  Athenians,  having  expelled  the 
inhabitants,  had  sent  new  colonists,  among  whom  was  Ariston,  Pla- 
to's father.  Now  this  event  occurred  in  the  second  year  of  the  Pe- 
loponnesian  war,  which  began  in  the  second  year  of  the  eighty- 
seventh  Olympiad.  According  to  this  account,  Plato  must  have 
been  born  in  the  fourth  year  of  the  eighty-seventh,  or  in  the  first 
year  of  the  eighty-eighth  Olympiad.  This  is  the  year  given  by 
Apollodorus  and  Hermippus.  According  to  Athenaeus,  Plato  was 
born  in  the  third  year  of  the  eighty-seventh  Olympiad.  The  Chron- 
icon  of  Eusebius  names  the  fourth  year  of  the  eighty-eighth  Olym- 
piad, when  Stratocles  was  archon,  while  the  Alexandrian  Chronicon 
mentions  the  first  year  of  the  eighty-ninth  Olympiad,  in  the  archon- 
ship  of  Isarchus.  Neanthes  makes  him  eighty-four  years  old  (at 
his  death)  ;  hence,  if  we  assume  that  he  died  in  the  first  year  of  the 
one  hundred  and  eighth  Olympiad,  he  must  have  been  born  in  the 
second  year  of  the  eighty-seventh.  Diogenes,  however,  relates  that 
the  event  occurred  in  the  archonship  of  Amenias,  which,  according 
to  Diodorus,  was  in  the  second  year  of  the  eighty-seventh  Olympiad. 
We  have  a  report  from  Hermippus,  not,  it  is  true,  explicit,  but  from 
which  it  follows,  that  Plato  died  in  the  eighty-second  year  of  his  age, 
in  the  first  year  of  the  one  hundred  and  eighth  Olympiad. 

In  order  that  we  may  draw  a  consistent  conclusion  from  these 
contradictory  statements,  we  must  attend  to  other  facts  which  have 
been  related  with  more  de  fin  hen  ess.  Here  belongs  the  year  of  his 
death.  Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  Plutarch,  Diogenes  and  Athe- 
naeus all  state  the  year  of  his  death  to  have  been  the  first  of  the  one 
hundred  and  eighth  Olympiad.  This  reckoning  is  on  the  authority 
1  Diog.  III.  2.  Plut.  Sympos.TlTl.  1.  2  Diog.  III.  3. 


LIFE  OF  TLATO. 


313 


of  Hermotimus,  who  wrote  the  lives  of  celebrated  philosophers,  and 
of  the  well-known  chronologist,  Apollodorus,  whose  testimony  is  of 
still  greater  weight.  With  these  we  must  always  count  Neanthes, 
who  composed  the  lives  of  distinguished  men  with  much  industry. 
If  Neanthes  had  deviated  from  other  writers  in  respect  to  the  year 
of  Plato's  death,  Diogenes  would  not  certainly  have  forgotten  to  men- 
tion it.  Eusebius  deserves  no  attention,  when  in  opposition  to  the 
definite  statement  of  these  old  and  somewhat  reputable  writers,  he 
names  the  fourth  year  of  the  same  Olympiad.  If  now  there  was  as 
much  certainty  in  relation  to  the  length  of  his  life,  then  we  could 
have  the  adequate  data  to  fix  upon  the  year  of  his  birth.  Here, 
however,  there  are  three  varying  opinions.  According  to  Neanthes, 
Plato  was  eighty-four  years  old  according  to  Hermotimus,  Cicero, 
Seneca,  Lucian  and  Censorinus,  eighty-one  years  ;2  and,  finally, 
according  to  Valerius  Maximus  and  Athenaeus,  eighty-two  years.3 
Though  the  last  statement  cannot  be  maintained  against  the  con- 
clusions of  the  other  writers,  still  it  rests,  perhaps,  on  common 
grounds  with  them.  Since  Plato  is  said  to  have  died  on  the  very 
anniversary  day  of  his  birth,  his  death  may  be  set  down  as  well  in 
the  departing  as  in  the  commencing  year,  and  we  have  the  right 
equally  to  say  that  he  died  in  the  eighty-first,  or  in  the  eighty-se- 
cond year  of  his  age.  We  have  now  only  to  consider  the  two  re- 
ports respecting  the  years  eighty-one  and  eighty-four. 

According  to  the  testimony  of  Plutarch  and  Dionysius  of  Halicar- 
nassus,  Isocrates  was  born  in  the  second  year  of  the  eighty-sixth 
Olympiad,  seven  years  earlier  than  Plato,  and  five  years  before  the 
Pelopennesian  war.4  Diogenes  Laertius  fixes  the  intermediate  time 
between  Isocrates  and  Plato  at  only  six  years,  probably  in  accord- 
ance with  the  reckoning  of  Neanthes.5  Were  we  to  follow  his  ar- 
rangement, Plato  would  have  been  born  in  the  second  year  of  the 
Pelopennesian  war,  or  in  the  fourth  year  of  the  eighty-seventh 
Olympiad.    Now  when  we  reckon  backwards  from  this  year  to  the 

1  Diog.  III.  3. 

2  Diog.  III.  2.  Cic.  De  Senect.  c  5.  Seneca  Epist.  58.  Lucianus  de 
Longaevis,  Censorinus  de  Die  Natali,  c.  15. 

3  Val.  Maxim.  VIII.  7.   Athenaeus,  V.  18. 

4  Plat.  Vit.,  Isocrates,  Dionysius  Judicio  de  Isocrate. 
*  Diog  HI.  3. 

40 

*      4  * 


314 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


second  year  of  the  eighty-sixth  Olympiad,  we  have  only  six  years  ; 
and  from  the  beginning  of  the  Pelopennesian  war  only  four  years, 
consequently  we  must  include  both  the  year  preceding  these,  and 
the  year  following.  Herein,  indeed,  lies  the  only  doubt,  which  has 
not  as  yet  been  removed.  This  reckoning  leads  us  back  to  the 
fourth  year  of  the  eighty-seventh,  or  to  the  first  of  the  eighty-eighth 
Olympiad  as  the  year  of  Plato's  birth,  which  I  have  the  best  rea- 
son to  regard  as  the  most  probable,  inasmuch  as  we  always  return 
to  the  same  point,  though  we  go  out  on  different  paths. 

To  the  preceding  grounds,  on  which  we  form  a  conclusion,  we 
we  will  add  a  new  one.  Plato  lived  as  a  pupil  with  Socrates  eight 
years,  namely,  from  his  twentieth  to  his  twenty-eighth  year.1 
Brucker  here  finds  a  singular  difficulty.  '  Plato,'  says  he,  '  could 
have  been  only  eight  and  twenty  in  the  first  year  of  the  ninety-fifth 
Olympiad,  in  which  Socrates  drank  the  poisoned  cup,  but  he  must 
have  been  at  least  thirty  years  old,  for  he  was  at  that  time  senator, 
to  which  office  no  one  was  eligible  before  his  thirtieth  year.'2  I 
cannot  say  from  what  source  Brucker  learned  that  Plato  was  a  sena- 
tor, for  1  do  not  find  the  least  proof  of  it.  If  we  now  go  back  from 
the  year  of  the  death  of  Socrates  twenty-eight  years,  the  fourth  year 
of  the  eighty-seventh  or  the  first  year  of  the  eighty-eighth  Olym- 
piad will  be  fixed  upon  as  the  year  of  the  birth  of  Plato.  In  the 
mean  time  we  adopt  this  reckoning,  until  learned  men,  from  better 
grounds,  shall  have  decided  upon  another.3 

Of  his  father  and  mother  but  a  few  circumstances  are  known. 
His  father  died  very  early,  before  Plato  had  commenced  his  philo- 
sophical course,  probably  before  the  28th  year  of  his  age.4  But  his 
mother  was  living  even  after  he  had  come  into  the  court  of  Diony- 
sius  the  younger.5    His  brothers  were  Adimantus  and  Glauco ;  he 

1  Diogenes  III.  5,  6.  Suidas  Platone,  dnoyvoi  ?  Si  toi'tojv  icpikoaocpr/os 
naqd  JSojxQdret,  tixl  i'rij  x.    A  more  correct  reading  is  probably  ini  I'tu  x. 

2  Historia  Critica  Philosophiae,  Lips.  1745,  I,  632,  Note. 

3  [Professor  Boeckh  of  Berlin,  as  we  learn  from  MS.  Notes  of  his  Lec- 
tures on  Plato,  loaned  us  by  a  friend,  places  his  birth  429  B.  C,  on  the  7th 
of  Thargelion,  21st  or  22d  of  March.  According  to  Ritter,  Geschichte  der 
Phil  11.  152,  Berlin,  1830,  Plato  was  born  at  JEgma.  or  Athens,  in  the  87th 
or  88th  Olympiad,  at  the  time  of  the  death  of  Pericles. — Tr.] 

4  Plut.  ntQi  tpikoarogyias  II.  Frankf.  1(  20,  496. 

5  Plat.  Epist.  XL  174. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


315 


had  a  sister  called  Potona.  Plutarch  puts  down  Antipho  as  a  younger 
brother.1  But  he  was  only  a  half  brother,  on  the  mother's  side, 
since  Perictione,  after  the  death  of  Ariston,  married  Pyrilampes,  as 
we  should  conclude  from  the  reference  below.2  We  now  turn  back 
to  Plato  himself. 

Nature  had  furnished  him  with  many  qualifications  and  accom- 
plishments, which  placed  him  in  a  condition  to  act  the  part  of  a 
great  man.  His  bodily  frame  was  very  firm  and  strong,  but  per- 
haps not  altogether  symmetrical,  the  due  proportion  of  parts  of  his 
body  to  the  whole  not  being  preserved.  According  to  the  account 
of  some  writers,  either  his  breast,  his  shoulders  or  his  forehead 
were  unusually  broad.  Hence  was  derived  his  name  nXarwv,  for  he 
was  first  called  Aristocles,  from  his  grandfather.3  Plutarch  also  re- 
lates that  he  was  hump-backed,  but  this,  perhaps,  was  not  a  natural 
defect ;  it  may  have  first  appeared  late  in  life  as  a  result  of  his  severe 
studies.4 

But  though  his  bodily  frame  was  not  entirely  symmetrical,  yet  it 
could  not  have  disfigured  him ;  rather  he  was  so  constituted,  that 
from  his  external  appearance,  particularly  from  his  countenance,  we 
should  have  attributed  to  him  a  superior  mind.  So  at  least  Socrates 
judged,  who,  with  his  wonderfully  sharp  eye,  was  wont  to  ascertain 
the  inner,  hidden  disposition,  and  here  at  least  he  did  not  deceive 
himself.5  A  strong  susceptibility  and  excitableness,  a  fiery  imagina- 
tion, wit  and  keenness,  a  high  degree  of  understanding  and  reason 
were  the  gifts  which  Plato  had  received  from  nature.  And  there 
were  wanting  neither  education,  fortunate  circumstances,  nor  his 
own  activity,  by  which  he  might  cultivate  these  talents,  bring  them 
into  action  and  give  them  a  determinate  direction. 

His  father  contributed  all  which,  according  to  the  circumstances  of 
the  times,  was  necessary  to  give  to  his  son  a  good  education.  Plato 
first  learned  grammar,  that  is,  reading  and  writing,  from  Dionysius. 
In  gymnastics,  Ariston  was  his  teacher.    He  excelled  so  much  in 

1  Diogenes  III.  4.  Apuleius  366.  Plutarch,  ntql  qidaSelcpiag  484. 

2  Parmenides  X.  73. 

3  Diogenes  III.  4.  Seneca  Epist.  58.  Apuleius  365. 

4  Plut.  de  Audiend.  Poet.  26,  53. 

5  Apuleius  p.  366,  quem  ubi  adspexit  ille,  ingeniumque  intimum  de  exte- 
riore  conspicatus  est  facie. 


316 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


these  physical  exercises,  that  he  went  into  a  public  contest  at  the 
Isthmian  and  Pythian  games.1  He  studied  painting  and  music  un- 
der the  tuition  of  Draco,  a  scholar  of  the  well-known  Damon,  and 
Metellus  of  Agrigentum.2  But  his  favorite  employment,  in  his 
youthful  years,  was  poetry,  since  this  furnished  abundant  nourish- 
ment to  his  spirit,  struggling  upward,  and  which  in  itself,  as  well  as 
in  the  prospect  of  the  honor  and  renown  for  which  he  earnestly 
strove,  promised  such  manifold  pleasures.  After  he  had  made  use 
of  the  instruction  of  the  most  distinguished  teachers  of  poetry,  in 
all  its  forms,  he  proceeded  to  make  an  essay  himself  in  heroic  verse. 
But  when  he  perceived  its  ordinary  character,  and  the  great  differ- 
ence between  it  and  the  masterpieces  of  Homer,  he  threw  it  into 
the  fire.  His  love  of  distinction,  which  was  his  ruling  passion,  did 
not  allow  him  to  regard  any  one  as  superior  to  himself,  and  his  feel- 
ings taught  him  that  it  was  impossible  that  he  should  excel  Homer.3 
His  efforts  in  lyric  poetry  did  not  result  any  more  auspiciously,  or 
at  least,  they  failed  to  give  him  satisfaction.  Finally  he  sought  his 
fortune  in  dramatic  poetry.  He  elaborated  four  pieces,  or  a  Tet- 
ralogy, with  which  he  might  wrest  the  prize  from  other  poets.  But 
an  accident  induced  him  to  quit  forever  this  career,  to  which  he  was 
not  probably  destined.  A  short  time  before  the  feast  of  Bacchus, 
when  his  first  piece  was  to  be  brought  upon  the  stage,  he  became 
acquainted  with  Socrates,  who  discovered  in  him  talents  which  would 
fit  him  for  a  large  sphere  of  action.  To  his  desire  for  honor,  Soc- 
rates gave  an  entirely  different  direction,  as  we  shall  show  further 
on.4  But  though  he  abandoned  his  poetic  attempts,  yet  he  still  at- 
tended to  the  reading  of  the  poets,  particularly  of  Homer,  Aristo- 
phanes and  Sophron,  as  his  favorite  occupation.5  He  derived  from 
them  in  part,  the  dramatic  arrangement  of  his  dialogues. 

It  was  then  customary,  for  young  men  who  were  preparing  for 
the  polite  world,  or  to  distinguish  themselves  in  any  manner,  to  at- 
tend a  course  in  philosophy.  Plato  had  heard  the  instructions  of 
Cratylus,  a  disciple  of  the  school  of  Heraclitus.6    When  Diogenes, 

1  Diog.  111.4.  Apul.  366,  Olympiod. 

2  Diog.  HI.  5   Apul.  366.  Plutarch  de  Music  a.        3  jElian  II.  30. 

4  TElian  11.3.  Diogen.  111.  5,  Olynipiod.  Apul.  3C6.        5  Olympicd. 

6  Aristoteles  Metaphysic.  1.  6  tx  vtov  rt  ydo  ovyyavu/uivos  ttqojtov  K(j<x- 
Tvh<>  xcd  rctig  HQuxXtntlots  do£cug.  Apuleius  3C6,  et  antea  quidem  Herac- 
liti  secta  fuerat  imbutus. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


:H7 


Olympiodorus  and  other  writers  assert  that  he  did  not  become  a 
scholar  of  Cratylus  till  after  the  death  of  Socrates,  they  give  less 
credit  to  Aristotle  and  Apuleius  than  they  deserve  ;  the  former  a 
contemporary,  the  latter  drawing  his  information  from  Speusippus.1 
There  are  yet  other  grounds  which  take  away  all  probability  from 
the  information  of  Diogenes,  who  has  not  given  his  authorities.  In 
the  first  place,  it  is  not  credible,  that  Plato,  up  to  his  twentieth  year, 
had  not  studied  philosophy,  which  was  then  the  universal  practice  of 
high-born  youth.  Philosophers  in  great  numbers,  and  of  all  kinds, 
then  exercised  their  profession  at  Athens.  Ariston,  as  it  appears 
from  all  the  authorities,  spared  no  expense  which  could  promote  the 
education  of  Plato.  In  the  second  place,  provided  Plato  did  not  at- 
tend upon  the  instructions  of  Cratylus  till  after  the  death  of  Socrates, 
it  would  appear,  even  according  to  the  supposition  of  Diogenes,  that 
he  must  have  attended  immediately  after  that  event.  But  Diogenes 
directly  thereupon  relates,  out  of  Hermodorus,  that  Plato,  in  the 
twenty-eighth  year  of  his  age,  repaired  to  Euclid  at  Megara.  And 
how  could  he  have  still  remained  at  Athens,  when  with  the  other 
disciple  of  Socrates  he  left  Athens  for  the  very  reason,  that  he  fear- 
ed the  same  fate  at  the  hands  of  the  Athenians  which  Socrates  had 
suffered  ? 

Diogenes  says  further,  that  Plato,  in  addition  to  Cratylus,  attended 
upon  Hermogenes,  an  Eleatic  philosopher,  and  that  too  after  his  at- 
tendance upon  Socrates.  Now  as  no  early  writer  alludes  to  this 
Hermogenes,  not  even  in  a  single  word,  I  am  inclined  to  believe, 
that  he  is  the  same  one  who  preceded  Cratylus  as  a  teacher,  and  was 
the  son  of  Hipponicus,  an  Athenian.  Since  Cratylus  was  a  teacher 
of  Plato,  this  circumstance,  or  some  other  authority  misled  Diogenes, 
and  caused  him  to  confound  Cratylus  and  Hermogenes  together,  and 
thus  while  Cratylus  passed  for  a  Heraclitic  philosopher,  Hermoge- 
nes, with  like  inconsiderateness,  was  regarded  as  an  Eleatic. 

But  it  is  very  probable,  that  Plato,  in  his  youth,  had  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  several  kinds  of  philosophy,  which  then  found  dis- 
ciples.   For  opportunity  could  not  have  been  wanting  in  Athens, 

1  Diog.  III.  6.,  Olymp.,  Anonymous  writer  in  the  Bibliothek  der  alten 
Litteratur.  ["  Aristotle  says  Plato  was  connected  with  Cratylus  from  his 
youth,  Meta.  1.  6.  Ast  improperly  doubts  this.  His  first  philosophy  was 
Ionic.  That  Cratylus,  in  his  dotage,  is  represented  unfavorably,  is  owuig  to 
the  fact  that  Plato  now  despised  that  philosophy."  Boeckh.  Tr.] 


318 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


which  was  a  favorite  rendezvous  for  all  the  so-called  philosophers, 
sophists  and  rhetoricians.  So  far  it  is  certain,  at  least,  that  Plato 
had  an  indescribable  desire  for  knowledge,  and  spared  no  labor  nor 
pains,  in  order  to  amass  information.1  Apuleius  likewise  records, 
that  he  was  very  modest,  which  is  also  corroborated  by  Heraclides.2 
While  a  youth,  he  was  so  serious  and  collected,  that  he  was  never 
guilty  of  any  irregularities,  or,  as  some  say,  he  never  laughed 
throughout  his  life.3  It  is  scarcely  worth  the  pains  to  animadvert 
upon  the  extravagancies  in  these  ludicrous  fabrications.  But  it  is 
more  important  to  consider  what  some  writers,  in  opposition  to  the 
assurance  of  Speusippus  and  Heraclides,  have  asserted,  namely, 
that  Plato,  in  his  youth,  indulged  excessively  in  love,  and  that  he 
went  so  far  even  as  not  to  disdain  beautiful  boys.4 

This  point,  which  has  furnished  both  the  friends  and  enemies  of 
Plato,  from  the  early  times,  a  fine  opportunity  to  show  their  adroit- 
ness either  in  attack  or  defence,  has  not,  in  our  days,  been  settled 
with  the  proper  definiteness,  and  one  is  thereby  always  in  danger  of 
confounding  the  man  with  the  philosopher,  of  making  an  individual, 
aside  from  his  own  deserts,  a  saint  or  a  sinner.  To  examine  the 
grounds  assumed  by  the  opponents  is  all  which  we  can  now  do. 
The  alleged  illicit  loves  of  Plato,  are  inferred  from  three  general 
heads.  First,  that  he  sought  the  intercourse  of  beautiful  youths. 
But  this  Socrates  did,  and  in  itself  it  is  no  fault.  Secondly,  there  are 
still  extant  a  few  amatory  songs  concerning  maidens  and  boys  which 
breathe  something  wholly  different  from  lawful  love  and  delicate 
friendship.5  But  it  cannot  be  determined  that  these  sports  of  a  juve- 
nile phantasy  originated  with  Plato.  The  greater  part  of  them  were 
in  the  Greek  Anthology  attributed  to  other  authors.  Would  not  Pla- 
to have  burnt  his  verses  of  this  sort  with  his  other  poems  ?  Apulei- 
us asserts,  indeed,  explicitly,  that  he  spared  only  these ;  but  that 

1  Apul.  366.  Nam  Speusippus  domesticis  instructus  documentis  et  pueri 
ejus  acre  in  percipiendo  ingenium  et  adruirandae  verecundiae  indolem  lau- 
dat ;  et  pubescentis  primitias  labore  atque  amore  studendi  imbutas  refert. 

2  Diog.  111.  2G.  3  Diog.  HI.  2C,  Olymp. 

4  Diog.  111.  34.    Athenaeus  I.  XI. 

5  Diog.  HI.  35.  Athen.  1.  XIII.  Apul.  Apolog.  249.  Gellius  I.  XIX. 
c.  II.  says,  "  Some  regard  Plato  as  the  author  of  one  of  these  poems,  which 
he  composed  at  the  time  that  he  wrote  tragedies,  before  he  attended  upon 
Socrates." 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


319 


writer  has  no  other  historical  ground  for  this  assertion  than  their  ex- 
istence, which  is  indeed  very  slender.  Once  more,  could  they  be 
charged  on  him,  as  the  author,  they  may  be  regarded  as  the  play  of 
a  juvenile,  ardent  imagination,  much  of  which  one  might  consider  as 
useful,  and  according  to  the  Greek  ideas  of  propriety  and  fitness. 
In  mature  age,  indeed,  Plato  would  not  have  allowed  himself  to  com- 
pose such  poems.  Thirdly,  Antisthenes,  in  order  to  torment  Plato, 
prepared  a  certain  dialogue,  called  Satho,  which  contained  an  allu- 
sion to  his  name,  as  well  as  a  satire  on  his  excesses  in  love.1  But 
whether  Plato  merited  this  is  not  clear.  For  if  he  was  guilty  of  pro- 
fligate habits,  he,  doubtless,  did  not  continue  to  practise  them  in  ma- 
ture age. 

It  were  certainly  possible,  and  somewhat  in  keeping  with  the 
character  of  Antisthenes,  to  revive  the  remembrance  of  Plato's  youth- 
ful faults,  so  as  to  gratify  his  own  pride  and  inclination  for  scandal. 
It  is  not,  indeed,  my  intention  to  attempt  to  free  Plato  from  every 
fault ;  but  the  foregoing  charges  are  not  sufficient  to  attach  any 
stains  to  his  life  ;  and  to  judge  from  his  dispositions  and  his  labors, 
he  cannot,  as  it  seems  to  me,  be  regarded  as  a  sensualist. 

It  may  appear  to  be  a  remarkable  circumstance  in  the  life  of  Pla- 
to, that,  in  his  struggle  for  honor  and  renown,  with  his  talents,  and 
in  very  favorable  circumstances,  he  should  not  have  trod  that  path 
which  was  most  customary  in  a  republic, — by  his  deeds  and  services 
in  behalf  of  his  native  land,  to  acquire  for  himself  a  glorious  name. 
In  inclination  he  was  as  little  wanting  as  other  young  men.  Had 
he  desired  to  perform  an  active  part  in  public  business,  so  soon  as  it 
was  in  his  power,  his  motives,  in  taking  the  common  course,  might 
have  been  mere  ambition,  or  a  wish  to  make  himself  generally  useful, 
or  the  consciousness  of  duty.2  Critias,  one  of  the  Thirty,  a  near 
relative,  being  his  uncle  on  the  mother's  side,  and  other  friends 
aroused  him  to  the  subject,  and  placed  before  him  things  of  a  stimu- 
lating nature.3  The  requisite  qualities  and  the  aptitude  we  cannot 
deny  him.    Cicero,  at  least,  believes,  that  as  an  orator,  he  might 

1  Diog.  III.  35.    Athenaeus  1  IT.  III. 

2  Epist.  8.  XI.  93,  viog  iyoi  ttots  6jv  Ttottoig  di)  xavxov  Xna&ov  •  cuTj&yVjsi 
ftatTov  tfiavrov  yevoifxrjv  xvQtos,  tni  rd  xoivd  xrtg  noXsujg  ev&vg  tivai.  Epist. 
5.  89.  Epist.  9.  165. 

3  Epist.  7.  94,  rovrojv  §?}  Tivtg  olxtiol  ts  ovreg  xal  yvu'jQifioi  tTi  yyavov 
i/uoi  •  xal  Sij  xal  Ttaoaxdkow  tv&c  g  olg  im  itQoarjxovTa  ixqdy^ara  ut. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


have  played  a  conspicuous  part.1  But  notwithstanding  all  these  for- 
tunate circumstances,  notwithstanding  all  the  internal  and  the  exter- 
nal inducements,  he  kept  himself  wholly  aloof  from  all  public  occu- 
pations and  services.  He  never  once  went  into  an  assembly  of  the 
people  either  to  impart  counsel  or  to  propose  measures.2  For  the 
reason  of  this  remarkable  fact,  we  have  Plato's  own  confession.  He 
was  too  considerate  ;  he  weighed  everything  in  cool  blood,  and  did 
not  allow  himself  to  be  seduced  into  any  rash  resolutions.  Accord- 
ingly he  determined  in  the  first  place  to  observe  what  rules  those 
men  who  had  the  helm  of  State  in  their  hands  followed  ;  and  he 
soon  found  evidence  enough  to  satisfy  himself,  that  they  could  not 
harmonize  with  his  principles  in  the  least  degree.  It  is  probable, 
that  through  his  intercourse  with  Socrates,  his  moral  sense  was  so 
developed  and  educated,  that  the  cruel  deeds,  the  acts  of  violence 
and  the  despotic  principles  of  the  Thirty  filled  his  soul  with  horror, 
and  produced  the  first  disinclination  to  a  life  of  business.  For  he 
would  not  adopt  their  maxims,  and  he  could  not  follow  his  own, 
without  plunging  himself  into  the  most  evident  hazard  of  life,  and  he 
did  not  see  that  the  common  good  would  receive  any  advantage  from 
such  a  course.3  When  afterwards  the  power  of  the  Thirty  was  an- 
nihilated, and  a  new  reformation  of  the  political  system  followed,  his 
inclination  for  political  life  was  again  somewhat  excited.  But  many 
new  scenes  which  occurred,  particularly  the  iniquitous  execution  of 
Socrates,  gave  to  his  original  resolution,  namely,  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  administration  of  the  State,  firmness  and  permanence  ; 
they  imparted  to  his  mind  a  particular  direction  towards  the  in- 
vestigation of  the  fundamental  errors  and  radical  deficiencies,  not 
only  in  the  Attic  Commonwealth,  but  in  other  States,  and  led  him  to 
reflect  on  the  causes  of  this  evil,  and  the  means  of  thoroughly  remov- 
ing it.4 

Perhaps  another  cause  had  an  influence.    So  strong  an  inclina- 

1  Cic.  Officior.  1.1. 

2  Epist.  V.  88.  We  are  not  entirely  certain,  whether  he  performed  mili- 
tary service  more  than  on  a  single  occasion.  The  information  of  Diogenes 
III.  8,  from  Aristoxenus  and  ^Elian  VII.  14,  that  he  fought  at  Tanagra,  De- 
los  and  Corinth,  cannot  be  true,  for  Plato  was  at  that  time  only  a  child. 

3  Epist.  5.  89,  ircu  navrajv  av  TjSwTct,  xa&aTTtQ  nargi,  ovvspovksvev  avToj, 
si  ur  fxdrtjv  fi-tv  mvdvvai'aeiv  ujstOj  nlttv  <T  ovSiv  7ioi?jaeiv. 

4  Epist.  7.  93,  96. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


321 


tion  for  a  political  course  of  life  might  have  led  him  to  attain  it,  but 
this  was  not  the  only  thing  which  filled  his  soul.  From  the  zeal 
with  which  he  had  struggled  to  educate  his  mind  and  to  collect  know- 
ledge, we  may  safely  conclude,  as  it  appears  to  me,  that  he  had  en- 
joyed, in  a  high  degree,  the  pleasures  which  mental  pursuits  awaken. 
Hence  there  must  have  originated  a  special  interest  in  certain  ob- 
jects, and  a  particular  direction  must  have  been  given  to  his  entire 
pursuits,  although  at  first  he  had  determined  to  educate  himself 
merely  for  a  statesman.  Thus  he  did  not  want  other  objects  and 
motives  for  labor,  and  sources  of  satisfaction,  when  he  had  been  dis- 
appointed in  his  original  purpose,  and  the  means  by  which  he  would 
have  effected  his  object  took  the  place  of  the  object  itself. 

These  reasons  appear  to  me  to  be  sufficient  to  account  for  the 
phenomenon.  Brucker  thinks  that  he  took  no  part  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  affairs  of  the  State,  because  he  was  not  pleased  with 
the  laws  of  Draco  and  Solon  j1  but  Brucker  has  confounded,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  the  effects  and  operation  of  the  laws,  with  the  reasons 
for  them.  Of  the  laws  of  Draco  nothing  in  particular  can  be  said, 
since  they  were  abolished  by  Solon.  Neither  the  character  of  the 
laws,  nor  the  constitution  of  the  State  could  have  impeded  Plato's 
struggle  for  political  life,  for  he  could  not  have  once  thought  of  these 
things  ;  it  was  the  men— their  maxims  and  rules,  which  first  drew 
his  attention,  and  which  first  awakened  in  him  discontent  and  indig- 
nation. Now  he  desired  even,  that  the  Athenians  should  copy  the 
morals  and  dispositions  of  their  ancestors,  and  that  the  laws  of  Solon 
should  have  their  full  influence.  It  was  subsequently  only,  when 
a  necessary  survey  and  observation  of  the  moral  and  political  re- 
lations of  men  had  turned  his  mind  to  these  objects,  that  he  be- 
lieved that  the  grounds  of  the  manifold  existing  evils  were  to  be 
found  in  the  constitution  of  the  State,  in  legislation  and  education.2 

This  circumstance,  besides,  exerted  great  influence  on  the  culti- 
vation of  his  mind,  and  in  directing  him  towards  philosophy,  travel- 
ling, and  many  other  things.  Had  Plato  been  fortunate  in  the  attain- 
ment of  his  objects,  or  rather  had  not  such  sinister  maxims  and  mo- 
tives met  him  in  his  path,  we  should  have  had,  it  may  be,  no  Plato 
the  philosopher ;  his  writings,  instinct  with  genius,  would  not  per- 
haps have  seen  the  light.  His  observant  mind  would  have  been 
turned  especially  towards  men  in  their  social  relations,  their  actions, 

1  Hist.  Crit.  Philos.  I  <J4rf.  2  Epist.  7.  947m. 

41 


3-22 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


motives  and  maxims.  His  judgment  would,  in  that  case,  have 
sought  opportunity  to  distinguish  between  what  appeared  to  be  cus- 
tomary, and  what  ought  to  be.  But  here  we  must  not  forget  that  the 
education,  which  his  mind  received  through  the  intercourse,  the 
instruction  and  the  leading  of  Socrates  had  the  greatest  share  in 
all  these  effects,  and  that  the  circumstance  above  referred  to  must 
have  been  regarded  only  in  its  aspects  as  an  occasion,  or  a  subsidiary 
reason.  It  is  time,  however,  that  we  should  resume  the  narration, 
where  we  just  now  suspended  it. 

Plato  had  already  gone  through  the  course  of  knowledge  which 
young  people  then  customarily  pursued,  had  attended  the  philoso- 
phical lectures  of  Cratylus,  and  probably  of  several  others,  and  per- 
haps had  read  the  works  of  the  older  philosophers,  as  Xenophanes 
and  Parmenides.  He  had  already,  as  we  have  seen,  made  attempts 
in  various  kinds  of  poetry,  and  was  even  about  to  bring  four  drama- 
tic compositions  on  the  stage,  when  he  became  acquainted  with  the 
excellent  Socrates,  by  which  means  the  cultivation  of  his  mind  was 
hastened.  According  to  the  testimony  of  most  writers,  Ariston 
himself  led  his  son,  now  in  his  twentieth  year,  to  Socrates,  because 
he  thought  that  intercourse  with  him  would  be  useful  to  his  son.1 
This  occurrence  is  interwoven  with  some  wonderful  circumstances, 
perhaps  mere  additions,  but  which  still  may  have  some  authority. 
The  night  before,  Socrates  had  the  following  dream.— A  young  swan 
fiew  away  from  the  altar  which  was  consecrated  to  Love  in  the  aca- 
demy, and  alighted  on  the  lap  of  Socrates,  and,  finally,  rose  into  the 
air  with  an  enrapturing  song.  As  Socrates  was  relating  this  dream 
to  his  pupils  the  next  morning,  Ariston  came  with  his  son.  The 
sight  of  the  youth,  whose  external  appearance  bespoke  so  much  su- 
periority, delighted  Socrates.  He  turned  to  his  pupils  and  said, 
"  There  is  the  swan  of  the  academy."  The  writers  referred  to  re- 
late this  only  as  a  report  which  was  deficient  in  the  proper  historical 
grounds.  In  the  mean  time,  any  one  who  considers  the  lively  ima- 
gination of  Socrates  and  his  conviction  of  the  full  meaning  of  dreams, 


1  Apul.  366.  Diog.  111.  5.  Olymp.  /Elian  narrates  in  a  different  manner 
touching  the  commencement  of  the  acquaintance  of  the  two  men,  but  we 
will  not  vouch  for  the  truth  of  his  account.  Plato  was  compelled  through 
poverty  to  betake  himself  to  a  soldier's  life,  but  when  he  was  in  the  act  of 
buying  his  accoutrements,  accident  conducted  Socrates  to  him,  who,  by  his 
first  conversation,  brought  him  to  another  resolution. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


323 


may  well  enough  suppose  that  some  such  thing  might  have  happen- 
ed. Of  the  eight  years  which  Plato  passed  in  intercourse  with  So- 
crates we  know  little  or  nothing,  interesting  as  the  detail  of  all  the 
minute  circumstances  and  incidents  would  be  for  us,  inasmuch  as  it 
would  show  us  two  great  men  of  antiquity,  perhaps  in  an  entirely 
new  aspect.  How  many  wonderful  things  might  we  learn,  particu- 
larly in  respect  to  the  course  of  the  development  and  education  of 
Plato's  mind,  could  the  history  of  this  period  of  his  life  contain  some- 
thing else  than  a  dry  collection  of  a  few  fragments. 

Socrates  must  have  greatly  rejoiced  when  a  slight  acquaintance 
confirmed  the  judgment  which  he  had  formed  on  the  first  glance  at 
his  countenance,  and  which  satisfied  his  expectation.  He  discover- 
ed in  him  all  the  fine  qualities,  the  expression  of  which  has  imparted 
such  an  interest  to  his  writings  ;  a  lively  imagination  susceptible  of 
everything  beautiful,  wit  and  acuteness.  He  however  noticed  that 
the  spring  which  set  in  motion  all  his  powers  of  mind  was  nothing 
but  ambition.  Hence  Socrates  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  stir  up 
these  powers  by  any  excitements  ;  he  gave  to  them  merely  a  deter- 
minate direction  by  virtue  of  that  sense  of  honor,  of  which  he,  as  a 
good  educator,  knew  how  to  make  a  very  judicious  use.  He  enno- 
bled this  propensity,  while  he  led  Plato  off  from  things  on  which  he 
sought  to  display  his  brilliancy,  and  conducted  him  to  those  objects 
which  elevate  us  in  our  own  consciousness.1  As  a  consequence, 
Plato  burned  all  his  dramatic  poems,  and  ever  after  renounced  poetry. 
Light  as  must  have  been  the  task  of  education  in  respect  to  the  mind, 
since  Plato  was  quite  teachable,  and  as,  it  appears  to  me,  in  addition 
to  his  good  talents,  possessed  of  great  susceptibility  for  moral  studies, 
still,  on  the  other  hand,  would  it  be  very  difficult  for  Socrates  to  sat- 
isfy the  aspiring  and  the  inquisitive  spirit  of  his  pupil.  In  all  his 
conversations,  he  started  questions,  raised  doubts,  and  always  de- 
manded new  reasons,  without  allowing  himself  to  be  satisfied  with 
those  already  given,  and  thus  caused  his  teacher  not  a  little  trouble.2 
This  liveliness  and  activity  of  mind  could  not  displease  Socrates  with 

1  Apul.  p.  3(56.  Jamque  carminum  confidentia  elatus,  certatoretn  se  profi- 
teri  cupiebat,  nisi  Socvates  humilitatem  cupidinis  ex  ejus  mentibus  expulis- 
set,  et  verae  laudis  gloriam  in  ejus  animum  inserere  curasset. 

2  The  anonymous  writer  of  his  life  in  the  Bibliothek  der  alten  Litteratur, 
13.  fisxoi  Ss  to  T7jV  Tj&ixrjv  ojcpshi&rjvcu,  y.al  TTQay/uara  Traoaoyelv  avroi  rw 
JSoMQaru  iv  ralg  ttqos  avrov  ivrtv^iai . 


324 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


his  manner  of  thinking  ;  so  little  was  this  the  case,  indeed,  that  Pla- 
to already,  in  the  lifetime  of  Socrates,  wrote  dialogues,  in  which  he 
introduced  his  teacher  as  the  principal  person,  and  carried  on  dis- 
cussions in  a  method  which  was  not  entirely  his  own.  There  are, 
indeed,  many  writers  who  believe  that  they  have  discovered,  that 
Socrates  was  by  no  means  satisfied  with  the  course  of  Plato  in  false- 
ly imputing  to  him  so  many  things  which  he  had  never  said.  But 
they  can  adduce  no  satisfactory  grounds,  or  competent  testimony, 
for  their  conclusion.  The  single  thing  to  which  they  appeal  can 
prove  nothing  for  them,  because  it  is  ambiguous.  When  Plato 
brought  forward  his  Lysis  in  the  presence  of  Socrates,  the  latter  ex- 
claimed, as  they  say,  "  By  Hercules  !  how  many  things  does  the 
young  man  falsely  report  of  me  !"  1  Now  it  cannot  be  determined, 
that  Socrates  uttered  this  sentiment  with  these  words  and  with  this 
manner,  but  it  is  rather  probable,  that  the  report  was  related  in  a 
different  way.'2  But,  allowing  that  the  fact  is  correctly  stated,  still 
we  cannot  infer  from  it  in  any  manner,  a  reproof,  accusation  or  even 
disapprobation  on  the  part  of  Socrates.  It  were  certainly  inconsid- 
erateness  in  Plato  to  have  recited  his  writings  to  Socrates,  which 
were  of  such  a  nature  as  to  have  aroused  his  indignation.  The 
words,  however,  will  well  bear  the  meaning,  that  Socrates,  wishing 
to  commend  the  richness  and  fruitfulness  of  the  young  man's  mind, 
employed  the  Attic  elegance  which  very  well  agreed  with  that  sort 
of  irony  of  which  the  words  of  the  anonymous  biographer  contain  an 
example.  Athenacus,  further,  relates  an  anecdote,  which  perhaps 
would  indicate  more  dissatisfaction  on  the  part  of  Socrates  than  the  pre- 
ceding story,  if  it  were  not  destitute  of  all  historical  probability :  "  So- 
crates is  reported  to  have  once  said,  in  the  presence  of  Plato  and  of 
other  pupils, '  I  dreamed  that  thou  art  become  a  crow,  and  hast  picked 
my  bald  head.  I  predict  that  thou  wilt  prate  many  falsehoods  about 
me  among  the  people.1  "3  Were  Athenaeus,  indeed,  in  many  of  his 
anecdotes  about  the  philosophers  deserving  of  particular  credit,  still, 
that  this  would  be  wholly  unfounded,  we  can  show  by  testimony  which 

1  Diog.  IiL  35,  (paai  Si  y.ai  2w'A(jdrrjv  dxovodvra  tuv  huciv  dvayivojozov- 
rog  IlXaro'ji'og,  1  HyavJ.u-,  ttrctiv,  tog  -rrolld  ftov  Harzutevded'  6  vsayiaxoe. 

2  The  anonymous  biographer  so  relates  the  fact,  13.  rov  ydo  Xx'oiv  SidXo- 
yov  GvyyiyQaqojg ,  oj  tven'ya  y.ai  u  ^orAQat^g,  h'yr]  rdlg  zrouyoig  avrov  .  o-  rug 
o  vtaviag  dyu  /ut  o^it]  ■&i?.tiJ  y.ai  agp  uoov  d$X&ij  uai  rryug  0v9  d^Xsi. 

3  Athenaeus  Dipnos.  edit.  Casaub,  L.  XI.  507. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


,'i25 


would  be  entirely  satisfactory  to  an  adversary.  It  is  derived  from  a 
writer,  who  was  a  contemporary,  a  fellow-pupil  of  Plato  and  also 
a  rival.  Xenophon,  who  has  taken  special  pains,  as  Plato  did  in 
different  circumstances,  not  to  mention  Plato's  name  except  in  a  sin- 
gle instance,  could  not  avoid  saying  once,  as  it  were  in  passing,  that 
Socrates  had  a  very  particular  regard  for  Plato.1  This  testimony,  or 
rather  this  hint,  removes  all  subsequent  reports,  and  obtains  addi- 
tional weight  when  we  consider  the  disposition  and  conduct  of  Plato 
towards  his  teacher. 

Plato  esteemed  and  loved  Socrates,  as  was  fit  in  view  of  the  ex- 
cellent character  of  the  latter.  But  here  not  only  his  writings  fur- 
nish very  many  proofs, — in  which,  with  the  finest  touches,  he  exhi- 
bits Socrates  in  accordance  with  his  own  mode  of  thinking,  and  de- 
fends him  with  great  earnestness  from  all  his  unjust  charges, — but 
the  facts  which  he  adduces  corroborate  his  statements.  When  he 
was  accused,  Plato  ascended  the  orator's  stand  to  prove  his  innocence 
to  the  judges,  though  he  did  not  obtain  the  object  of  his  wish.  When 
the  clamor  of  the  assembled  multitude  compelled  him  to  descend, 
ere  he  had  hardly  begun  to  speak,2  Crito,  Critobulus,  Apollodorus 
and  Plato  entreated  Socrates  to  offer  to  the  judges  a  sum  of  money 
as  a  voluntary  fine,  in  order  to  redeem  himself  from  his  cruel  sen- 
tence, while  they  would  contribute  thirty  minae  from  their  own  re- 
sources.3 Although  Socrates  did  not  accede  to  their  request,  still  it 
was  a  very  strong  proof  of  their  sincere  attachment  to  him.  The 
death  of  this  good  man,  of  this  distinguished  teacher  and  dear  friend, 
filled  Plato's  heart  with  the  deepest  feeling,  partly  of  grief,  partly  of 
indignation  towards  his  enemies.4  Athenaeus  here  relates  an  anec- 
dote that  is  not,  perhaps,  more  credible  than  the  others  which  he 
has  so  abundantly  collected.  W^hen  some  of  the  disciples  of  Socra- 
tes, after  his  death,  were  entirely  dejected  and  disheartened,  Plato, 
who  was  in  their  company,  taking  a  cup,  said,  that  they  ought  not  to 
permit  their  courage  to  fail ;  he  felt  himself  sufficiently  strong  to 
continue  the  school  of  Socrates,  and  reached  the  cup  to  Apollodo- 

1  Xenoph.  Memor.  Soc.  111.  6,  ^LoxQaxr/g  §i  si  vovs  6'jv  airoj  Sid  TTjV  Xoiq- 
filSr/V  xov  rlai  xowos  v.ai  Sid  Illaro'jva. 

2  Diog.  II.  41,  from  Justus  Tiberius,  a  very  recent  writer.  That  Plato 
defended  Socrates  in  the  trial  is  very  possible,  Xenoph.  Apolog. 

3  Plato,  Apolog.  88.  Xenoph.  Apolog". 

4  Phaedo,  265,  267.  Epist.  7.  94,  95.  Plutarch  de  Vita  Morale  L.  II.  449. 


82G 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


rus.  The  latter,  however,  replied  with  displeasure  :  4  Rather  would 
I  drink  the  poisoned  cup  of  Socrates,  than  take  a  cup  of  wine  from 
thee.'1  Now  it  might  have  been  true,  that  Plato  himself,  while  still 
a  scholar,  formed  the  determination  of  establishing  his  own  philoso- 
phical school ;  possibly  this  resolution  acquired  more  strength  after 
the  death  of  Socrates;  but  the  conduct  in  question  does  not  accord 
with  his  character,  and  it  has  a  number  of  serious  difficulties  in  op- 
position to  it.  But  is  it  possible  that  Plato  was  so  unfeeling,  that,  in 
view  of  the  compassionate  sympathies  of  his  fellow-disciples,  he 
could  think  only  of  gratifying  his  personal  pride  ?  Stupid  must  he 
have  been  in  sense  and  feeling,  to  imagine  that  by  forwardness  in 
assuming  the  place  of  Socrates  he  could  mitigate  the  sorrow  of  any 
one  for  the  loss  of  his  ever  memorable  teacher.  And  would  he 
have  done  this  at  a  time  when  all  were  in  anxious  fear  lest  they 
should  share  a  fate  like  that  which  had  befallen  their  master,  and 
when  most  of  them  did  not  consider  it  prudent  to  remain  at  Athens? 
Had  Plato  entertained  the  serious  intention  of  teaching  philosophy 
in  the  place  of  Socrates,  and  had  circumstances  favored  it,  he  would 
have  been  entirely  certain  of  accomplishing  his  object,  without  bring- 
ing on  himself  the  disapprobation  of  others. 

Before  I  proceed  further,  I  must  say  something  concerning  the 
relation  of  Plato  to  the  other  disciples  of  Socrates,  and  in  respect 
to  their  mutual  coldness  and  jealousy.  Diogenes  and  Athenaeus 
have  collected  a  great  multitude  of  such  narratives,  nearly  all  of 
which  have  the  object  of  disclosing,  in  their  nakedness,  the  infirmi- 
ties and  faults  of  Plato,  or  rather  by  collecting  them  together  to  put 
his  whole  character  into  the  shade.  I  have  often  been  astonished 
when  I  have  seen  respectable  writers  of  modern  times  give  credence 
to  the  word  of  those  authors,  repeating  pictures  which  were  entire 
caricatures,  without  investigating  the  accuracy  of  the  particular  linea- 
ments, without  examining  the  sources  from  which  they  were  derived, 
without  presenting  the  facts  under  a  general  point  of  view,  without 
having  gone  over  this  historical  criticism  and  separated  the  false 
from  the  true  ; — a  manner  of  proceeding  in  which  there  is  always 
danger  of  being  unjust  towards  this  or  that  individual,  and  of  exhi- 
biting the  character  of  persons  in  a  false  light.  I  will,  therefore, 
collect  together  all  the  facts  in  connection  with  a  full  view  of  what 
relates  to  them,  examine  their  correctness,  and  finally  arrange  to- 

'  Athen&etis  L  XL  507. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


327 


gethersome  investigations  which  have  particular  reference  to  the  un- 
friendly relations  of  the  disciples  of  Socrates. 

The  writers  referred  to  accuse  Plato  of  having  left  traces  in  his 
conduct  towards  most  of  the  disciples  of  Socrates,  of  envy,  jealousy, 
contempt  and  revenge,  which  greatly  darkened  his  character.  In 
all  his  writings,  Plato  mentions  Xenophon  but  once,  and  not  at  all  in 
the  Phaedon  and  the  Apology,  where  he  should  have  found  a  place 
in  connection  with  the  other  pupils  of  Socrates.    Plato  declared,  for 
the  purpose  of  giving  pain  to  his  opponent,  that  the  Cyropaedia  was 
a  mere  romance.    Precisely  similar  was  the  conduct  of  Xenophon. 
He  mentions  Plato's  name  but  once  in  his  writings.    When  Plato 
had  brought  out  the  first  two  books  of  his  Republic,  Xenophon  wrote 
his  Cyropaedia  in  order  to  present  an  opposite  to  the  Platonic  ideal 
of  a  commonwealth.    Their  jealousy  showed  itself  in  the  circum- 
stance that  both  composed  similar  works,  namely,  the  Apology  of 
Socrates  and  the  Symposium.1   Of  the  facts  first  mentioned,  in  their 
main  points,  there  is  undoubted  proof.  The  last  named,  however,  when 
they  are  not  absolutely  false  are,  at  least,  very  doubtful.  When 
Plato  says  that  Cyrus,  as  he  himself  represents  the  matter,  had 
acquired  no  particular  education,  but  such  as  was  customary  for  a 
youth  destined  to  a  rough  manner  of  life,  that  he  might  become  a 
good  soldier,  and  that  while  he  carried  on  wars  through  the  whole  of 
his  life,  he  took  very  little  care  of  his  domestic  affairs  and  of  the  edu- 
cation of  his  sons,  still  we  cannot  hence  conclude  that  Plato  would 
offend  Xenophon  by  this  exhibition,  supposing  even  that  he  had  de- 
clared the  Cyropaedia  to  be  a  mere  romance.2    Another  mode  of 
exhibition,  namely,  the  refutation  of  an  opponent,  doesjiot  betray  a 
malicious  disposition,  and  when  the  name  of  an  opponent  is  passed 
over,  as  in  this  case,  with  modesty,  it  is  rather  an  indication  of  es- 
teem or  forbearance.    The  second  allegation,  that  Xenophon  wrote 
his  Cyropaedia  in  opposition  to  the  first  two  books  of  the  Republic, 
and  that  in  order  to  present  a  different  ideal  of  the  science  of  govern- 
ment, has  almost  nothing  in  its  favor,  and  every  thing  against  it. 
Now  in  these  first  two  books,  there  occurs  no  ideal  of  a  perfect 
commonwealth,  so  that  Xenophon  could  not  have  composed  his  Cy- 
ropaedia with  the  design  of  contending  against  Plato.    In  respect 
to  their  object  and  plan,  both  productions  could  not  have  been  very 


1  Diog.  111.  34—37.  Athen.  L.  XI.  504,  507.  Gellius  XIV.  3. 

2  De  Leg.  III.  Vol.  VIII.  142. 


328 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


diverse  one  from  the  other.  The  similarity  of  the  writing  cannot 
furnish  the  least  ground  of  proof,  in  which,  the  Apology  excepted,  it 
is  so  slight.  In  the  Symposium,  the  resemblance  lies  only  in  the 
name,  while  the  dissimilarity  in  the  design  and  execution,  is  very 
great.  There  now  remains  only  the  simple  fact  that  neither  men- 
tions the  name  of  the  other,  except  that  Xenophon  does  so  in  one 
instance.  In  the  two  cases,  however,  where  the  silence  of  Plato 
may  be  considered  as  the  most  remarkable — in  the  Apology  and  the 
Phaedon — we  cannot  find  any  thing  censurable  in  the  course  of 
Plato.  For  in  the  last  named  dialogue,  he  mentions  only  those  fol- 
lowers of  Socrates  who  were  with  him,  or  might  have  been  with 
him,  on  the  day  of  his  death,  to  which  number  Xenophon  did  not  be- 
long. In  the  Apology,  however,  he  does  not  mention  his  name,  be- 
cause it  would  have  done  no  good  at  that  time  to  have  spoken  of 
Xenophon  to  the  Athenians.  But  that  Plato  and  Xenophon,  these 
cases  excepted,  should  have  thought  as  little  of  each  other  as  if  not 
in  existence,  appears  to  show  not,  indeed,  hostility,  but  a  certain  dis- 
tance and  separation,  the  reasons  of  which  are  perhaps  not  so  con- 
cealed but  that  they  may  be  conjectured. 

That  which  is  censurable  in  Plato's  treatment  of  Xenophon  sprung 
from  his  jealousy  as  a  writer,  which  did  not  always  restrain  itself 
within  due  bounds.  But  the  weightiest  charge,  and  that  which  is  most 
prejudicial  to  Plato's  character,  has  its  origin  in  the  narrations  of  his 
deportment  towards  iEschines.  The  conversation  which  iEschines 
had  with  Socrates  in  prison,  in  order  to  persuade  him  to  flee,  Plato, 
either  through  unkindness  towards  iEschines,  or  because  he  lived  on 
better  terms  with  Aristippus  than  with  him,  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
Crito.1  While  Plato  was  residing  in  the  court  of  Dionysius,  iEschi- 
nes  also  came  there,  in  order  to  obtain  some  relief  in  his  poverty, 
but  instead  of  recommending  him  to  the  king,  Plato  treated  him  with 
contempt.'2  When  both  again  returned  to  Athens,  Plato  was  not 
ashamed  to  deprive  his  poor  fellow  pupil  of  his  only  scholar,  Xeno- 
crates.3  The  first  statement  rests  on  the  authority  of  Idomeneus, 
who  wrote  a  book  respecting  the  followers  of  Socrates  ;  but  this  writer 
has  been  often  blamed  for  his  want  of  trustworthiness.4  His  vera- 
city appears  in  a  doubtful  light  in  consequence  of  this  single  report. 


1  Allien.  XI.  507.  Diog.  II.  GO.  111.  3G.  2  Diog.  III.  30.  II.  62. 

3  Athen.  XI.  507.  4  Plut.  Pericle  157.  Demosthenes  853,  850. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


329 


For,  according  to  Xenophon,  there  were  several  friends  who  would 
have  secretly  carried  off  Socrates  from  his  confinement,  but  still 
Crito  appears  to  have  acted  the  principal  part  in  the  matter,  since 
only  a  man  of  respectability  and  wealth  would  think  of  such  an  en- 
terprise. What  party  spirit  did  Plato  make  himself  obnoxious  to, 
when  he  had  attributed  to  another  man  rather  than  to  iEschines  a 
project  which  was  so  severely  censured  by  Socrates  and  rejected  ? 
In  the  second  report,  Diogenes  has  not  quoted  his  authority,  but  men- 
tions it  simply  as  a  story.  Plutarch,  however,  comes  forward  and 
relates  exactly  the  opposite.1  The  third  statement  Athenaeus  mere- 
ly relates,  without  referring  at  all  to  his  sources.  .  It  is  in  itself  wor- 
thy of  little  credit,  as  Athenaeus  often  compiles  without  any  discri- 
mination. If  it  is  true,  that  Xenocrates  in  his  early  youth  attended  on 
Plato,  that  iEschines  remained  with  Dionysius  until  Dion  banished 
him  from  Sicily,  and  that  after  his  return  to  Athens,  he  did  not  ven- 
ture publicly  to  teach  philosophy,  because  Plato  and  Aristippus  had 
already  gained  general  applause,*2  then  the  report  in  question,  (to 
the  prejudice  of  Plato),  must  be  a  naked  fabrication.  I  am  tired, 
however,  of  quoting,  in  order  to  confute,  statements  of  this  kind, 
which  bear  the  appearance  of  falsehood  on  their  face,  and  which 
can  be  in  no  manner  regarded  by  respectable  writers  as  having  any 
show  of  credibility.  From  the  specimens  already  given,  we  must 
conclude  that  very  little  faith  can  be  placed  in  anecdotes  like  these. 

Meanwhile,  however,  as  these  and  all  similar  reports  can  be  re- 
garded as  nothing  but  fabrications,  which  the  credulous  writers  of  a 
later  age  eagerly  seized  upon  without  any  evidence,  still  we  cannot 
believe  that  they  were  forged  in  the  absence  of  all  reason.  It  is, 
indeed,  more  than  probable,  that  a  kind  of  jealousy  or  coldness  pre- 
vailed among  most  of  the  disciples  of  Socrates,  the  external  mani- 
festations of  which  were  held  in  check,  so  long  as  Socrates  lived, 
by  their  relation  to  him  as  pupils,  by  the  universal  love  towards  their 
teacher,  and,  finally,  by  the  powerful  influence  of  his  admonitions, 
but  which  afterwards  broke  out  so  much  the  more  strongly  as  they 
found  no  further  restraint.  This  state  of  things  exhibited  itself,  not 
only  in  regard  to  Plato,  but  also  in  respect  to  all  those,  nearly  with- 
out an  exception,  who  distinguished  themselves  in  any  manner. 
The  reasons,  as  it  appears  to  me,  were  the  following.  The  charac- 
ter of  their  mind  and  feelings  was  too  widely  different  to  allow  us 


1  Plut.  de  Discrim.  Adulat.  67. 

42 


2  Diog.  IV.  C,  II.  63,  64. 


330 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


to  think  of  any  close  and  heartfelt  union  as  practicable.  All  had 
participated  in  the  society  of  Socrates,  and  had  been  educated  by 
him  ;  but  notwithstanding,  all  remained  as  they  had  been  ;  each  one 
used  those  conversational  instructions  which  most  nearly  approxi- 
mated to  his  own  method  of  thinking  and  system  of  ideas  ;  each 
made  his  own  use  and  application  of  the  rules  and  instructions 
of  Socrates,  and  thereby  educated  himself,  but  not  in  accordance 
with  the  teaching  of  Socrates.1  In  that  high  esteem  and  love  for 
Socrates,  respecting  which  all  his  disciples,  as  it  were,  emulated 
each  other,  it  was  natural  that  each  one  should  imagine  that  he  him- 
self understood  Socrates  in  the  best  manner,  that  he  could  the  most 
correctly  exhibit  his  wisdom  and  copy  his  manner  of  life.  Hence 
every  one  found  something  to  censure  in  another  who  exhibited 
any  peculiarity  in  thought  and  action,  while  he  believed  that  himself 
alone  had  rightly  copied  his  teacher.  To  this  selfishness  was  added 
a  peculiar  kind  of  philosophical  bigotry  which  could  not  endure  that 
any  one  should  seek,  in  addition  to  what  Socrates  had  attempted, 
other  modes  and  means  of  making  philosophy  itself  useful.  They 
believed  that  Socrates,  who  was  declared  to  be  the  wisest  of  mor- 
tals, not  only  by  men  but  by  the  response  of  an  oracle,  must  have 
perfected  philosophy,  and  that  it  would  be  folly  to  wish  to  build  any- 
thing else  on  what  he  had  done.  This  seems  to  me  to  have  been 
particularly  the  case  in  respect  to  Plato,  who  was  looked  upon  as  an 
apostate  by  the  Socratic  school,  who  while  he  was,  indeed,  satisfied 
with  the  substantial  design  of  the  Socratic  philosophy,  still,  on  the 
other  hand,  strove  after  a  philosophical  and  systematic  acquaintance 
with  this  philosophy,  and,  in  the  mean  time,  in  order  to  gratify  his 
curiosity,  travelled  into  distant  lands,  came  into  connection  with 
other  philosophers  and  sought  nourishment  for  his  spirit  from  all 
the  books  which  he  could  obtain.  This  is  the  origin  of  many  of  the 
charges  against  Plato  which  we  find  in  the  letters  of  the  Socratics. 
These  letters  are,  indeed,  according  to  the  unanimous  judgment  of 
learned  men,  not  genuine,  and,  by  their  ridiculous  errors,  only  be- 
tray the  lateness  of  the  age  of  the  authors ;  but  there  still  lies  in 
them  much  historical  material  for  argument,  which  the  authors  handled 
in  a  very  awkward  manner.  Hence  I  conjecture  that  the  same 
thing  appears  evident  in  respect  to  these  unfavorable  judgments  on 
Plato,  as  from  the  numerous  anecdotes  which  Diogenes  and  Athe- 
1  Cic.  de  Oratore  III.  16. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


331 


naeus  have  collected.  One  circumstance  still  may  be  mentioned 
which  must  have  stimulated  the  zeal  of  the  followers  of  Socrates, 
namely,  that  Plato  by  his  mode  of  philosophizing  acquired  such  an 
extensive  fame  as  seemed  to  eclipse  them.  But  in  regard  to  Plato, 
neither  this  nor  the  other  reason  could  have  operated,  for  he  had  a 
very  liberal  mode  of  thinking,  and  fortune  had  raised  him  above 
jealousy.  But  the  manner  of  thinking  of  the  one  class  which  would 
not  listen  to  any  other  except  the  Socratic  philosophy  ;  the  fact  that 
the  character  of  another  class  was  so  different  from  his ;  the  passion 
for  imitation  in  a  third  being  nothing  else  than  to  copy  Socrates  ;  per- 
haps also  various  occurrences  fitted  to  displease  him — all  these 
things  taken  together  were  sufficient  to  produce  a  certain  distance 
and  reserve,  but  which,  so  far  as  one  can  imagine,  had  no  such  in- 
fluence on  his  conduct  as  that  he  put  away  from  him  the  claims  of 
humanity.  They  manifest  themselves  in  his  writings  by  silence  ; 
also  when  he  quotes  sentences  from  them,  which  he  is  compelled  to 
censure,  and  if  he  names  them,  it  is  only,  (a  few  persons  ex- 
cepted), when  he  quotes  historical  facts  from  Socrates.  Still  it  ap- 
pears as  if  Cebes  and  Plato  lived  on  friendly  terms.1 


CHAPTER  II. 

FOREIGN  TRAVELS. 

After  the  death  of  Socrates,  Plato,  in  connection  with  others  of 
the  Socratic  school,  made  a  journey  to  Megara,  and  remained  some 
time  there  with  Euclid.2  They  thought  it  not  safe  for  them  to  stay 
at  Athens,  and  they  feared  that  the  revengeful  feelings  of  the  ene- 
mies of  Socrates  might  not  be  appeased  by  one  offering.  In  Me- 
gara they  had  not  only  full  freedom  and  security,  but  enjoyed  also 
the  pleasure  of  being  received  and  entertained  in  a  friendly  manner 
by  their  fellow-disciple.  Through  some  deficiency  in  the  accounts, 
it  is  uncertain  whether  all  the  followers  of  Socrates,  or  a  part  of 
them,  or,  in  other  words,  who  the  individuals  were  who  betook  them- 

1  Epist.  12.  177.  2  Diog.  111.  6.  II.  106,  from  Hermidorus. 


332 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


selves  to  Megara,  or  how  long  they  remained,  or  what  their  employ- 
ments were.  Bruckcr  says  that  Plato  received  instructions  in  dia- 
lectics from  Euclid.1  But  no  other  writer  has  any  reference  to  it. 
It  is  rather  probable  that  both,  in  their  philosophical  conversations, 
sought  to  enrich  and  to  settle  their  knowledge.  Hence  Cicero  re- 
lates, that  the  Megarian  philosopher  drew  many  of  his  opinions  from 
Plato.2  It  is  also  uncertain  whether  Plato  returned  to  Athens  from 
Megara,  or  proceeded  on  his  learned  travels.  The  former,  howe- 
ver, is  the  more  probable,  as  he  must  have  made  some  arrange- 
ments and  preparation  for  such  lengthened  travels  before  commenc- 
ing them.  If  that  were  true,  which  Valerius  Maximus  has  record- 
•  ed,  that  at  the  time  that  Plato  investigated  the  remarkable  objects  of 
Egypt,  young  men  had  resorted  to  Athens  in  crowds  in  order  that 
they  might  place  themselves  under  his  instructions  in  philosophy, 
then  it  would  follow,  not  only  that  the  first  supposition  was  certain, 
but,  also,  that  previously  to  his  travels  he  had  founded  a  school.  But 
we  cannot  determine  very  much  from  this  account,  since  Valerius 
has  not  mentioned  his  authorities. 

Plato's  subsequent  travels  are  indeed  well  known,  but  we  have 
scarcely  any  definite  information  about  them,  except  some  frag- 
ments. The  occasion,  the  reasons,  and  the  object  of  his  travels,  we 
can  conjecture  on  more  probable  grounds  than  we  can  settle  the  ex- 
act historical  narrative.  As  he  had  tasted  in  his  early  youth  of  the 
pleasures  which  flow  from  the  cultivation  and  improvement  of  the 
mind,  so  he  never  ceased  to  collect  the  materials  for  enriching  his 
knowledge.  His  mind  embraced  all  the  branches  of  science  which 
were  then  known,  and  he  limited  his  curiosity  to  no  particular  kind 
of  object.  Hence  it  could  not  but  happen  that  Egypt,  Italy  and 
Sicily  must  have  possessed  peculiar  charms  for  him,  because  those 
countries  must  have  promised  important  additions  to  his  knowledge, 
partly  in  consequence  of  the  many  remarkable  objects  and  uncom- 
mon natural  phenomena,  and  partly  in  consequence  of  the  great  and 
celebrated  men  with  whom  he  would  there  meet.  Egypt  especially 
was  a  land  which  was  regarded  as  the  seat  of  all  refinement  and 
knowledge,  which  was  contemplated  with  a  kind  of  astonishment  and 

1  Brucker  Hist.  Crit.  Philus.  V.  I.  6U,  133. 

2  Acadeui.  Quacst.  IV.  42.    Hi  qutxjue  multa  a  Platone. 
J  Valer  Maxim.  L.  VIII.  C.  7. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


lofty  admiration,  which  had  already  returned  so  many  Greeks  en- 
riched with  the  treasures  of  wisdom,  where  Orpheus  had  acquired 
his  elevated  religious  attainments,  Solon  his  political  wisdom,  and 
Pythagoras  his  philosophy.  The  Pythagorean  and  Eleatic  philoso- 
phy were  still  flourishing  in  Sicily  and  Italy,  of  which,  probably, 
Plato  had  gained  out  of  the  books  some  foretaste,  which  made  him 
eager  to  acquire  a  more  intimate  knowledge  by  personal  intercourse 
with  celebrated  Pythagoreans.  Since  all  this,  as  it  is  in  the  highest 
degree  probable,  first  inflamed  in  him  the  desire  for  travelling,  so 
perhaps  there  was  still  another  circumstance,  which  irresistibly  im- 
pelled him  to  put  his  intention  in  execution.  In  consequence  of  va- 
rious political  circumstances,  his  intention  of  laboring  for  the  good 
of  his  native  land  was  frustrated,  as  we  have  before  shown.  At 
this  time  his  desire  for  observation  was  directed  particularly  to  the 
subjects  of  political  science,  the  various  forms  and  constitutions  of 
States,  the  rules  of  administration  and  the  connection  between  po- 
litics and  morals.  He  wished  to  give  the  greatest  compass  to  his 
information,  and  to  compare  the  results  of  it  with  observations  on 
other  States.  That  this  was  the  reason  of  his  travels  appears  not 
only  from  a  passage  in  his  seventh  letter,1  but  from  certain  narra- 
tions which  we  shall  adduce  further  on. 

In  respect  to  the  order  and  course  of  his  travels,  writers  are  not 
agreed.  According  to  the  testimony  of  Cicero,  with  which  Valerius 
concurs,  he  went  first  to  Egypt  and  then  to  Italy.2  Quinctilian 
gives  the  reverse  order,  first  to  Italy,  afterwards  to  Egypt.  Apulei- 
us  has  it  thus — Italy,  Cyrene,  Egypt,  Italy  ;  according  to  Diogenes, 
Cyrene,  Italy,  Egypt ;  finally,  according  to  the  anonymous  biogra- 
pher,— Egypt,  Phoenicia,  Sicily.3  Of  these,  the  most  natural,  and 
of  course  the  most  probable,  is  the  order  given  by  Apuleius,  while 
it  alone  has  the  advantage  of  being  reconcileable  with  the  other  ac- 
counts, since  we  may  conclude,  that  some  persons,  by  mistake  or 
misrecollection,  omitted  the  first  journey  to  Italy  ;  others,  the  second. 
The  statement  of  Diogenes  has  neither  advantage. 

Plato  then,  if  we  adopt  the  arrangement  above  given,  went  first 
to  Italy,  or  Magna  Graecia,  to  the  Pythagoreans,  who,  at  that  time, 

1  p.  969.  He  had  finally  convinced  himself,  he  says,  that  all  known 
States  had  a  defective  constitution. 

2  Cic.  De  Finib.  V.  29,  and  a  fragment  in  the  first  book  of  his  Republic. 

3  Apul.  367.  Diog.  111.  G.  Quinct.  Instit.  1.  19. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


had  acquired  a  great  name,  not  only  by  their  attainments  but  also 
by  their  political  sagacity.  According  to  Cicero,  Quinctilian  and 
Valerius,  the  particular  object  of  this  journey  was  to  enrich  his  theo- 
retical knowledge ;  but,  according  to  Apuleius,  it  was  with  more 
particular  reference  to  moral  improvement.1 

I  suppose  his  design  was  to  learn  everything  worthy  of  knowing, 
to  obtain  an  insight  into  political  knowledge  and  into  mathematics, 
to  make  himself  acquainted  with  metaphysics,  and  to  turn  all  these 
things  to  the  cultivation  of  his  mind  and  heart.  Numerous  and 
respectable  writers  believe,  that  Plato  became  formally  a  scholar 
with  the  Pythagoreans,  and  gave  himself  up  as  a  pupil  to  be  initiated 
into  their  doctrines  ;  these  writers,  however,  do  not  appear  to  me  to 
consider  that  Plato  must  have  been  then  at  least  thirty  years  old, 
and  that  with  his  not  insignificant  name,  he  would  not  probably  have 
subjected  himself  to  these  formalities.  He  came  perhaps  as  a 
stranger,  who  sought  acquaintance  and  intercourse  with  the  learned 
and  with  political  men,  and  in  the  character  of  a  lover  of  all  good 
knowledge,  in  respect  to  all  things  which  had  awakened  the  interest 
of  these  persons,  might  expect  and  did  actually  find  a  friendly  recep- 
tion. In  these  circumstances,  he  must  have  entered  into  a  relation 
of  equality  with  the  Pythagoreans,  which  consequently  imparted 
mutual  benefit  in  regard  to  their  attainments  respectively,  whereby 
each  gave  and  received  what  he  could.  I  can,  indeed,  adduce  no 
certain  proof,  that  this  relation,  and  no  other,  actually  existed  be- 
tween them  ;  but,  besides,  that  it  seems  to  me  altogether  fitting  to 
the  character  and  circumstances  of  all  parties,  I  can  still  adduce 
some  reasons  from  the  imperfect,  extant  narrations,  which  give  to 
my  conclusion  a  tolerable  degree  of  probability.  Plutarch,  in  his 
Life  of  Marcellus,  relates  that  Archytas  and  Eudoxus  first  made 
experiments  in  relation  to  the  laws  of  mechanics.  Not  being  able 
to  solve  some  difficult  problems  in  geometry  by  demonstration,  they 
attempted  to  effect  it  by  mechanical  contrivances,  seeking  to  bring 
out  in  an  easier  manner  a  posteriori  what  they  could  not  a  priori. 
For  example — to  two  given  lines  it  is  required  to  find  a  middle  pro- 
portional line.    In  order  to  solve  it,  they  contrived  various  drawings 

1  Apul.  1.  c.  Sed  posteaquam  Socrates  homines  reliquit,  quaesivit,  unde 
proficerer,  et  ad  Pythagorae  disciplinain  se  contulit.  Quametsi  ratione  dili- 
genti  et  magnifica  instructam  videbat,  veram  tamen  continentiam  et  castita- 
tem  magis  cupiebat  imitari. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


335 


and  instruments,  whereby  in  every  case  the  desired  middle  line 
would  be  immediately  produced.  With  this  Plato  was  much  dissat- 
isfied, and  censured  them  because  they  annihilated  the  great  pre- 
eminence of  geometry,  so  far  as  it  was  independent  of  experiment. 
The  rebuke  deterred  them  from  attempting  any  further  mechanical 
performances  of  the  kind.1  This  narrative,  so  far  as  it  is  true,  shows 
clearly  that  Plato  had  his  own,  peculiar  ideas,  that  he  communica- 
ted them  to  the  Pythagoreans,  and  that  he  enjoyed  greater  conside- 
ration than  to  permit  himself  to  be  set  down  as  a  mere  scholar.  I 
say,  if  the  narrative  is  correct,  which,  in  my  opinion,  cannot  be  cer- 
tainly denied.  Plutarch,  who  in  general,  and  particularly  in  his  bi- 
ographies, is  a  trustworthy  writer,  here  certainly  merits  the  more 
confidence  as  his  design  was  not  to  say  anything  to  the  honor  of 
Plato.  Here  comes  in  also  a  passage  of  Plutarch.2  The  incident 
agrees  also  very  well  with  what  we  know  of  the  mode  of  thinking 
of  the  Attic  philosopher.  That  Archytas  employed  himself  in  me- 
chanical contrivances,  we  learn  from  other  authors.3  Besides,  when 
Plato  had  returned  to  Athens  from  his  second  Sicilian  tour,  he  re- 
ceived immediately  thereupon  a  second  invitation  from  Dionysius. 
The  king  regretted  that  he  had  allowed  Plato  to  depart  without  form- 
ing a  closer  acquaintance  with  his  philosophy,  as  Archytas  and  other 
philosophers,  who  supposed  that  Dionysius  understood  the  peculiar 
system  of  Plato,  had  held  learned  conversations  with  him,  whereby 
his  ignorance  had  been  made  manifest.4  When  we  bring  together 
both  these  testimonies,  I  know  not  who  can  still  hesitate  to  regard 
the  foregoing  conclusion  as  probable,  which  is  all  that  can  be  done 
in  the  want  of  direct  sources  of  evidence. 

How  long  Plato  remained  in  Italy  cannot  be  determined,  since  all 
the  accounts  relative  to  it  are  deficient.  But  so  much  is  certain, 
that  he  did  not  leave  this  country  before  he  had  gained  the  entire 

1  Plut  T.  I.  305.  Also  Symposiac.  L.  VIII.  T.  II.  718. 

2  Adversus  Colotem.  1126. 

3  Gellius,  A.  N.X.  12.  Hereby,  moreover,  an  historical  difficulty  is  remo- 
ved. Cicero,  de  Divinat.  11.42,  and  Diogenes  VIII.  86,  relate  that  Eudoxus 
scholar  of  Plato.  Probably  he  was  a  scholar  in  the  same  sense  that  Plato 
was  a  was  a  scholar  of  Archytas,  and  this  itself  falls  to  the  ground,  as  do  the 
difficulties  started  by  Brucker,  Hist.  Crit.  V.  114,  and  other  writers. 

4  Epist.  VII.  123,  <ju$  Jtovvoiov  ndvza  diaxyxoorog  ooa  dtevoovfirjv  iyou 


336 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


friendship  of  the  principal  Pythagoreans,  of  which  they  subsequent- 
ly gave  most  unequivocal  proofs. 

From  Italy,  Plato  went  to  Cyrene,  a  celebrated  Greek  colony  in 
Africa.  It  is  not  certain  whether  he  visited  Sicily  in  passing.  Ac- 
cording to  Apuleius,  the  object  of  this  journey  was  to  learn  mathe- 
matics of  Theodorus.1  This  mathematician,  whose  fame  perhaps 
surpassed  his  knowledge,  had  given  instruction  to  the  young  in 
Athens  in  his  branch  of  science,  but  he  did  not  probably  stay  there 
long,  as  mathematics  had  never  many  charms  for  the  Greeks.2  Pla- 
to, however,  was  not  an  entire  stranger  to  this  department  of  know- 
ledge, as  is  obvious  from  what  has  gone  before.  Hence,  it  could 
not  have  been  his  design  to  have  commenced  the  study  of  mathe- 
matics here,  but  on  the  other  hand,  he  probably  designed  to  com- 
plete his  knowledge  of  this  subject,  or  of  other  things.  In  conse- 
quence of  the  negligence  of  writers  we  cannot  get  at  the  exact  truth. 

Celebrated  as  was  his  journey  to  Egypt,  very  little  is  known  con- 
cerning it  with  certainty.  Euripides  and  Eudoxus  are  said  to  have 
been  his  companions.3  But  it  is  not  true  of  the  first,  for  he  was  not 
living  after  the  ninety-third  Olympiad,  and  thus  he  died  before  Socrates. 
As  it  respects  Eudoxus,  Brucker  and  others  would  show  on  chrono- 
logical grounds  that  he  could  not  have  accompanied  Plato  on  this 
journey.  For,  he  could  not  have  been  a  pupil  of  Plato,  as  the  latter 
first  began  to  teach,  after  his  return,  about  the  ninety-third  Olympiad. 
This  difficulty  I  have  already  removed.  A  remaining  circumstance, 
namely,  that  he  received  a  letter  of  introduction  from  Agesilaus  to 
king  Nectanebo  is  indeed  against  the  supposition  [that  Eudoxus  ac- 
companied him],  for  the  first  and  second  kings  of  this  name  ruled 
later,  (if  there  was  no  mistake  in  the  name)  ;  the  thing,  however, 
appears  to  have  been  correct.  Strabo  heard  not  only  from  the 
Egyptians  the  particular  circumstance,  but  he  saw  still  the  chamber 
where  both,  as  it  appeared,  dwelt.4  Plutarch  reports  that  Simmias, 
the  scholar  of  Socrates,  was  his  fellow-traveller.5 

According  to  some  writers,  he  remained  in  Egypt  thirteen  years.6 
But  this  statement  is  obviously  false.    We  will  suppose  that  he  en- 

1  Apul.  367. 

2  De  Repub.  VII.  7th  b.  155.  De  Legib.  VII.  8th  b.  387-365. 

3  Diog  III.  C.  VIII.  86.  4  Strabo  L.  XVII.  ed.  Casaub.  806. 
5  Plut.  de  Daemonic*  Socrat.  578.        6  Strabo  I.  c. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


337 


tered  on  his  travels  immediately  on  the  death  of  Socrates,  which  is 
more  than  we  can  assume,  then  he  could  have  employed  on  his  en- 
tire travels  not  more  than  about  thirteen  years.  For  when  he  first 
came  to  Syracuse,  he  was  not  far  from  forty  years  of  age,  (some- 
where about  the  ninety-eighth  Olympiad,)  and  this  must  have  been 
immediately  after  his  return  from  Egypt.1  He  had,  however,  spent 
some  time  with  Euclid  ;  it  is  likely  that  he  went  back  to  Athens; 
he  had  visited  the  Pythagoreans  in  Italy  and  Theodorus  in  Cyrene. 
If  to  this  be  added  the  time  which  he  spent  on  his  journey  out  and 
homeward,  one  may  easily  see  that  a  considerable  sum  must  be  sub- 
tracted from  the  years  specified. 

Writers  differ  very  much  in  assigning  the  object  of  this  journey. 
Cicero  says  that  he  performed  it,  in  order  to  improve  himself  in 
arithmetic  and  astronomy.2  Valerius  Maximus  mentions  geometry, 
astronomy  and  an  acquaintance  with  the  curiosities  of  the  country  ;3 
Quinctilian  says  that  he  wished  to  gain  a  knowledge  of  the  secret 
doctrines  of  the  priests  ;4  Pliny,  on  the  other  hand,  adduces  magic  ;5 
Apuleius  names  astrology  and  the  rites  of  the  priesthood  ;6  accord- 
ing to  Pausanias,  his  design  was  to  attain  an  understanding  of  the 
doctrines  of  the  priests  respecting  the  immortality  and  the  transmi- 
gration of  souls.7  Whether  Plato  had  a  very  definite  object  before 
his  eyes,  I  will  not  decide.8  The  wonderful  reputation  for  wisdom 
enjoyed  by  the  Egyptian  priests  was  sufficient  of  itself  to  lead  him 
to  undertake  the  journey,  even  if  his  favorite  inclination  for  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  political  and  civil  affairs  had  not  tended  some- 
what to  the  same  course.  Perhaps  he  might  wish  to  acquire  infor- 
mation in  respect  to  all  those  objects  which  writers  have  named 
singly.  Possibly  he  was  in  quest  merely  of  historical  knowledge. 
I  know  not  whether  his  expectations  were  realized  in  relation  to  the 
priests,  as  those  allege  who  make  Egypt  the  centre  of  every  kind  of 
learning  and  refinement.  In  the  meantime,  I  am  very  much  mista- 
ken, if  there  be  not  glimpses  of  the  contrary  in  some  passages  which 
I  will  quote  from  Plato.    He  yields  indeed  to  the  Egyptians  and 

1  Epist.  7.  93,  99,  103.   Epist.  2.  67.  2  De  Finib.  V.  29. 

3  VIII.  7.  4  Instit.  Orat.  I.  19.  5  Hist.  Nat.  XXX.  1. 

6  P.  367.  Astrologiam  et  sacerdotum  ritus.  7  Pausan.  Messeniac. 

8  ["  Plato  travelled  for  the  same  reason  that  we  travel,  to  learn  men  and 
things.''  Boeckh.] 

43 


338 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


the  Syrians  the  honor  of  having  been  first  attracted  by  their  serene 
skies  to  the  contemplation  of  the  starry  firmament,  but  he  also  sub- 
joins that  one  might  rightfully  expect,  that  the  Greeks,  as  in  regard 
to  everything  which  they  acquired  from  foreigners,  may  also  have 
perfected  this  science  and  improved  upon  the  religious  usages  of 
the  Egyptians.1  Astronomy  and  theology  are  the  very  sciences  on 
which  the  Egyptians  build  their  greatest  fame.  Still  it  appears  as 
if  Plato  would  indicate  that  they  were  far  remote  from  that  degree 
of  perfection,  which  he  then  allowed  himself  to  believe  as  attainable. 
In  another  passage,  however,  he  commends  the  Egyptians,  because 
their  young  men  received  instruction  in  arithmetic  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  censures  them  the  more  emphatically  as  they  attend- 
ed to  it  through  an  ignoble  participation  in  the  tradesman's  spirit, 
remarking  in  connection  upon  the  impurity  of  their  knowledge  and 
the  low  motives  of  their  actions.2  Not  less  did  he  disapprove  of 
their  rough  treatment  of  strangers.3 

It  is,  indeed,  not  to  be  denied,  that  he  might  have  very  much  en- 
riched his  attainments  on  this  journey  ;  but  whether  the  addition  was 
anything  else  but  a  collection  of  materials,  whether  the  priests  lent 
him  the  form  of  his  philosophy,  whether  they  themselves  had  brought 
their  knowledge  into  a  philosophical  order  —  these  are  questions 
which  must  probably  be  answered  in  the  negative.  This  much,  at 
least,  is  certain,  and  it  appears  even  from  the  few  fragments  of  his 
life,  that  he  carried  with  him  into  those  lands  his  philosophical  spirit 
and  his  intellectual  bias  towards  certain  theoretical  and  practical 
propositions ;  and  hence  he  had  previously  laid  the  groundwork  of 
his  system. 

From  Egypt,  Plato  would  have  gone  to  Syria  and  Persia,  in  order 
to  form  an  acquaintance  with  the  Chaldeans  and  Magians,  but  a  war 
which  had  broken  out  in  the  mean  time,  probably  the  one  waged  by 
Artaxerxes  with  the  Egyptians,  frustrated  his  intention.4  In  itself  it 
is  not  improbable,  that  a  journey  into  Syria  and  Chaldea — the  native 
land  of  various  kinds  of  knowledge — made  apart  of  Plato's  arrange- 
ment. Two  writers  of  no  great  weight  testify,  that  he  went  from 
Egypt  to  Phoenicia,  and  after  holding  a  conference  with  some  Ma- 

1  Epinomis  9th  vol.  2C5,  26$ 

2  De  Legibas  VII.  3th  vol.  334.  5th  vol.  246.  De  Repub.  IV.  6th  vol.  351). 

3  De  Legibus  XII.  202. 

1  Apul.  367.   Diog.  L.  III.  190.   Athenaeus  XI.  507. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


339 


gians,  returned  to  Sicily.1  The  testimony  of  neither  of  the  writers 
is  in  itself  very  important.  One  might,  indeed,  adduce  passages  from 
his  writings,  when  he  mentions  the  mercantile  spirit  as  the  national 
characteristic  of  the  Phoenicians,  as  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  asser- 
tion in  question,  but  he  could  have  obtained  this  information  from 
other  persons  or  from  writings.2  The  report  is,  however,  confirm- 
ed by  a  circumstance  which  is  related  in  Plutarch.  When  Plato  had 
reached  Caria  on  his  return  from  Egypt,  some  messengers  from  De- 
los  requested  him  to  expound  the  meaning  of  an  oracle.  The  inqui- 
ry had  been  made, "  What  ought  the  Greeks  to  do  in  order  that  they 
might  be  freed  from  a  general  calamity  ?"  The  answer  was,  that 
they  should  enlarge  the  altar  of  Apollo  at  Delos,  to  twice  its  existing 
size.  Through  ignorance  of  mathematics,  they  had  doubled  every 
side,  so  that  they  had  made  the  whole  altar  eight  times  as  large. 
Plato  pointed  out  to  them  their  mistake,  showed  them  the  only  right 
construction,  and  directed  them  for  further  information  to  Eudoxus 
or  Helicon.3  This  is  the  important  discovery  of  the  duplication  of 
the  cube,  which  has  brought  him  so  great  reputation. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FIRST  RESIDENCE  IN  SYRACUSE. 

Authors  are,  indeed,  almost  unanimous  in  asserting  that  Plato, 
after  his  Egyptian  travels,  came  to  Sicily,  but  in  the  statement  of 
particular  circumstances  and  events,  they  differ  so  widely  from  each 
other,  that  it  is  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  we  can  deter- 
mine what  is  the  most  probable.  Fortunately,  we  still  have  some 
letters  of  Plato,  and  also  Plutarch's  biography  of  Dion  which  will 
help  us,  in  some  measure,  through  these  labyrinths  of  contradictory 
accounts  and  fabulous  stories.  Plato  came  to  Syracuse,  for  the  first 
time,  when  he  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  in  the  eighty-ninth 

1  Olympiod.  and  the  anonymous  biographer  in  the  Bibliothek  der  alten  Lit- 
teratur.  14. 

2  De  Republica  IV.  359. 

3  Plutarch  De  Socratis  Daemonio.  VII.  *2S8.  Valer.  Maxim.  VII.  13, 


340 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


Olympiad,  in  the  reign  of  Dionysius  the  Elder.1  According  to  the 
statement  of  all  the  writers  who  make  mention  of  this  tour,  his  only 
object  was  to  see  the  volcano,2  but  from  the  seventh  letter  of  Plato, 
it  is  very  evident,  that  a  different  object  engaged  his  attention.  His 
observations  were  directed  particularly  to  the  inhabitants,  their  char- 
acter, morals  and  mode  of  life,  their  political  regulations  and  consti- 
tutions. These  were  probably  the  points  to  which  he  gave  special 
attention  in  the  other  countries  over  which  he  travelled.3  The  in- 
habitants of  Syracuse  led,  at  that  time,  an  extremely  luxurious  and 
sensual  life,  in  which  they  were  followed  by  the  other  Sicilians  and 
by  the  people  of  Lower  Italy.  The  predominant  passion  for  enjoy- 
ment and  pleasure  had  supplanted  all  other  considerations  and  ob- 
jects of  effort  from  their  minds,  and  allowed  no  place  for  noble  and 
great  ideas.  The  loss  of  their  freedom,  and  the  oppression  of  a  king 
who  had  subdued  them  and  who  ruled  arbitrarily,  they  endured  with 
all  possible  quietness,  because  their  mind,  in  its  single  pursuit  after 
pleasure,  had  lost  all  its  elasticity.  Such  was  the  situation  of  Sicily 
when  Plato  arrived.  Unintentionally,  a  revolution  was  brought  about, 
which,  in  a  short  time,  overthrew  the  power  of  a  king  who  was  re- 
garded as  invincible.  Plato  was  acquainted  with  Dion  a  near  kins- 
man of  Dionysius,  and  an  opulent  young  man.  Into  him  he  infused 
an  abhorrence  of  the  prevailing  excesses,  awakened  a  sense  of  free- 
dom, and  formed  his  heart  and  understanding  by  means  of  noble 
principles  and  sentiments.  Dion  being  yet  very  young  and  his  heart 
uncorrupted,  these  ideas  found  an  easy  entrance  ;  they  strengthened 
and  fortified  him,  and  became  the  rules  of  his  conduct.4  Conse- 
quently, he  began  to  place  a  higher  estimate  on  virtue  and  morality 
than  upon  all  the  pleasures  and  all  the  luxurious  living  of  the  Syra- 
cusans.  Hence  his  hatred  of  those  who  acted  in  accordance  with 
despotic  principles.  Thenceforward,  a  friendship  was  developed  in 
both  Plato  and  Dion,  which  ever  after  brought  them  into  close  com- 
munion, and  which  stood  the  proof  of  the  hardest  trials.  Dion,  who 
was  held  in  very  high  esteem  by  king  Dionysius,  contrived  that  the 
latter  should  form  an  acquaintance  with  Plato,  and  express  a  wish  to 
hear  some  philosophical  remarks  from  him.  Dion  probably  thought 
that  the  conversation  of  Plato  would  produce  in  the  understanding 
and  heart  of  Dionysius  the  same  effects  which  himself  had  experien- 

1  Epist.  7.  93.  2  Epist.  7.  97  seq.  3  Epist.  7.  97. 

*  Epist.  7.  9«,  99.   Plut.  Dion,  959.   Cic.  De  Oratore  III.  34; 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


341 


ced.  But  the  attempt  failed,  and  had  nearly  cost  Plato  his  life. 
The  remarks,  or  the  conversation  between  the  two — for  writers  are 
not  agreed  in  respect  to  this  point,  perhaps  it  was  both  intermingled 
— were  on  the  subjects  of  despotic  government,  the  higher  laws  of 
freedom  of  action,  and  that  morality,  and  not  selfishness,  was  the 
supreme  rule.1  Olympiodorus  preserves  a  fragment  of  the  conver- 
sation.   Whether  it  is  genuine,  I  cannot  say. 

Dionysius,  who  would  gladly  listen  to  some  flattery,  asked,  "  Who, 
in  your  opinion,  is  the  happiest  man  ?" 

Plato.  "Socrates." 

Diojiysius.  "  In  what  consists  the  duty  of  a  king  ?" 
Plato.  "  To  make  better  the  citizens." 

Dio?iysius.  "  But  does  it  appear  a  small  matter  to  you  when  one 
decides  a  law-suit  according  to  the  rules  of  equity  ?"  (Here  was  a 
fit  of  ambition,  for  he  would  have  gladly  heard  himself  commended, 
as  a  just  judge.) 

Plato.  "  This  is  one  of  the  smaller  duties  of  a  king,  for  good 
judges  are  like  the  clothes-menders  who  repair  torn  garments." 

Dionysius.  "  Dost  thou  not  believe,  that  a  king,  (a  tyrant  who  has 
placed  himself  arbitrarily  on  the  throne),  is  a  bold  and  courageous 
man  ?" 

Plato.  "  The  most  timid  of  all,  for  he  is  afraid  of  a  barber's 
knife."2 

These  and  similar  declarations,  which  were  in  direct  opposition  to 
the  principles  of  a  tyrant,  made  a  strong  impression  on  Dionysius, 
and  he  trembled  on  his  throne,  while  he  observed  the  effects  which 
Plato  had  produced  on  the  many  individuals  present.  To  this  is  to 
be  added  his  vexation,  that  he  had  been  worsted  in  the  dispute.  In 
the  first  heat  of  passion,  he  would  almost  have  punished  the  boldness 
of  the  philosopher  with  death,  unless  Dion  and  Aristomenes  had  to- 
gether restrained  him  from  it.  They  conceived  therefore  that  Plato 
could  no  longer  stay  at  Syracuse  without  hazard.  They  according- 
ly secured  a  passage  for  him  in  a  ship,  which  was  about  to  carry 
home  Polis,  a  Lacedaemonian  ambassador.3  Dionysius  heard  of  it, 
and  bribed  Polis  either  to  throw  Plato  overboard,  or  if  his  conscience 
would  not  allow  him  to  do  that,  to  sell  him  as  a  slave.  He  was  ac- 
cordingly sold  by  the  treacherous  Polis  on  the  island  iEgina  which 


1  Plut.  Dion,  959.   Diog.  III.  19.  2  Ofympiod. 

3  According  to  Olympiodorus,  he  was  a  merchant  of  iEgina. 


342 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


was  then  involved  in  a  war  with  Athens.  According  to  other  wri- 
ters, he  was  sold  by  the  iEginetans.  A  certain  Anniceris  from  Cy- 
rene  redeemed  him  for  twenty  or  thirty  minae.  Plato's  friends  and 
scholars — according  to  some  Dion  alone — collected  this  sum  in  or- 
der to  indemnify  Anniceris,  who  however  was  so  noble-minded,  that 
with  the  money  he  purchased  a  garden  in  the  academy  and  present- 
ed it  to  the  philosopher.1  Although  the  particular  circumstances  are 
not  related  in  the  same  manner  by  all  the  writers,  yet  it  seems  to  be 
definitely  settled,  that  Plato  once  lost  his  liberty.2  Plato,  indeed, 
makes  no  mention  whatever  of  these  events,  (which  must  certainly 
awaken  some  suspicion),  not  even  when  he  alludes,  though  obscure- 
ly, to  the  misfortunes  which  happened  to  him  on  his  first  tour.  In 
his  seventh  letter,  he  says  that  he  had  been  thrice  delivered  from 
great  peril  which  had  impended  over  him  in  Sicily.  The  first  can 
be  no  other  than  that  which  occurred  in  his  earliest  travels.3— Before 
I  proceed  further,  I  must  adduce  one  or  two  examples  of  the  negli- 
gence with  which  some  of  the  late  writers  have  compiled  their  ac- 
counts. Olympiodorus  relates,  that  Plato  was  sold  by  Polis,  at  the 
instigation  of  Dionysius  the  Younger.  And  the  wretched  compiler 
Tzetzes,  makes  out  that  he  was  sold  three  times  in  the  same  journey. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


SCHOOL  OF  PLATO  AT  ATHENS. 

When  Plato  had  completed  his  travels  and  had  reached  the 
end  of  their  various  dangers  and  calamities,  he  returned  to  Athens 
and  began  publicly  to  teach  philosophy  in  the  academy.  He  had 
here  a  garden  from  his  paternal  inheritance,  which  was  purchased 
for  five  hundred  drachmae.4    If  now  the  story  about  Anniceris  be 

1  D\og.  B.  111.  19.  Plut.jDion.  De  Tranquillitat.  Animi,  B.  II.  417. 

2  To  the  writers  already  quoted,  we  may  add  Seneca  Epist.  74.  Macrob. 
Saturn.  I.  11.    Biodor.  Sicul.  XV.  4G1.  ed.  Steph. 

3  Epist.  7.  115,  aai  fioi  ntl&eods  Jwg  tqlxov  oonyjQog  yaqiv. 

4  Apul.  307.  Plut.  de  Exilio,  G03,  says  it  was  bought  for  3000  drachmae. 
But  1  conjecture  that  the  transcriber  read  y,  instead  of  t.  [The  drachma  is 
reckoned  at  8  cents.J 


LIFE  OF  FLATO. 


343 


true,  Plato  must  have  had  two  gardens  in  this  place,  which  also  a 
passage  from  Diogenes  allows  us  to  conjecture.  This  writer  re- 
marks that  Plato  taught  philosophy  first  in  the  academy,  but  after- 
wards in  a  garden  at  Colonus.1  His  academy  very  soon  became 
celebrated  and  was  quite  numerously  attended  by  high-born  and  able 
young  men,  for  he  had  before,  by  means  of  his  travels,  and  proba- 
bly by  some  publications,  acquired  a  distinguished  name.  He  might 
indeed  have  taught  some  persons  in  philosophy  before  he  founded  his 
academy,  for  he  says  in  a  letter  to  Dionysius,  which  might  have 
been  written  about  the  one  hundred  and  fourth  Olympiad,  that  some 
persons  for  thirty  years  had  reflected  on  his  philosophy.2  As 
Plato  came  to  Syracuse  about  the  ninety-eighth  Olympiad,  he  could 
not  have  commenced  teaching  in  the  academy  till  about  the  ninety- 
ninth  Olympiad.  The  names  of  his  most  celebrated  disciples  are 
known,  so  that  I  need  not  stop  to  mention  them.  The  regulation  of 
his  school  and  his  mode  of  teaching  were  regarded  by  ancient  wri- 
ters as  circumstances  so  unimportant,  that  they  passed  them  by  al- 
most in  silence.  By  a  diligent  investigation,  I  have  been  able  to 
bring  together  nothing  more  than  some  disconnected  accounts,  which 
I  here  communicate  in  the  hope  that  intelligent  men  may  employ 
their  talents  in  uniting  these  detached  fragments  into  one  whole. 

Plato  in  teaching  pursued  a  method  altogether  different  from  Socra- 
tes, inasmuch  as  his  philosophy,  in  its  contents,  extent,  form  and  ob- 
ject was  very  far  removed  from  the  Socratic.  Socrates  wished  to 
quicken  and  develop  the  moral  feeling.  This  object  he  could  ac- 
complish in  no  better  manner  than  by  his  own  ability  to  exert  a  di- 
rect influence  on  the  hearts  of  his  disciples  by  means  of  conversa- 
tions. Plato,  on  the  contrary,  rather  labored  to  give  his  philosophy 
a  systematic  form,  since  he  considered  it  proved  that  all  knowledge 
and  action  must  rest  on  certain  grounds  which  philosophy  only  could 
establish.  The  doctrines  of  Socrates  were  of  common  practical 
utility,  and  designed  for  universal  application ;  to  them  was  fitted  a  pop- 
ular delivery.  Plato's  philosophy,  for  the  most  part,  was  not  intend- 
ed for  the  public,  inasmuch  as  it  contained  the  scientific  grounds  of 
theoretical  and  practical  philosophy,  whose  results  Socrates  commu- 
nicated in  the  way  of  conversation.  Hence  Socrates  was  a  teacher 
of  the  people  ;  while  Plato  founded  a  school  for  those  who  would 
educate  themselves  as  philosophers.    Consequently  he  could  not,  as 


Diog  111.  5. 


2  Epist.  2.  72. 


344 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


his  teacher  had  done,  go  round  to  the  public  resorts,  but  he  taught  in 
a  fixed  place.1  Ought  he  not,  however,  at  least  to  have  made  the 
attempt  to  bring  publicly  before  the  great  mass  of  the  people  some 
results  of  his  philosophizing,  which  he  regarded  as  truths  generally 
necessary  and  fitted  to  the  dignity  of  man  ?  I  find  in  Themistius 
a  few  notices  that  he  actually  did  something  of  this  sort,  and  that  he 
lectured  in  the  Pyraeus  on  goodness,  but  that  he  found  no  adequate 
encouragement  in  the  mass  of  people  who  ran  together,  and  who 
left  him  also  as  rapidly  as  they  had  collected.2  Whether  this  state- 
ment is  authentic  I  cannot  say.  Plato's  establishment  very  much 
resembled  the  Pythagorean  school ;  it  had,  however,  its  peculiarities. 
He  required  of  his  pupils  no  oath  of  secrecy,  and  he  taught  before 
no  fixed  circle,  not  even  in  a  closed  chamber.3  Every  body  had 
access.  In  the  mean  time,  whenever  he  felt  obliged  to  animadvert 
on  various  errors  in  the  religion  of  the  people,  and  to  lay  down 
many  positions  which  were  contrary  to  the  orthodox  system,  he  was 
compelled,  in  order  to  avoid  the  perils  with  which  freedom  of  thought 
had  then  so  often  to  contend,  either  to  expound  at  certain  hours  his 
esoteric  philosophy  to  his  own  pupils  only,  or  to  communicate  it  sim- 
ply in  a  written  form.  We  learn  from  Aristotle,  that  he  gave  such 
a  sketeh  of  his  esoteric  philosophy.4 

In  respect  to  the  method  which  he  pursued  in  his  philosophical 
statements,  I  find  two  contrary  opinions.  Brucker  believes  that  it 
was  not  different  from  the  one  which  we  find  in  his  writings.  Mei- 
ners,  on  the  contrary,  maintains  that  he  adopted  the  manner  of  the 
sophists.5  But  we  here  want  definite  information,  so  that  we  cannot 
decide  positively  respecting  it.  In  the  mean  time,  though  Plato 
did  not  expound  his  system  by  means  of  conversations,  but  in  con- 
nected discourses,  still  it  is  not  probable  that  he  would  declaim  ex- 
actly in  the  manner  of  the  sophists,  inasmuch  as  his  design  was  not 
to  excite  astonishment,  or  to  make  use  of  persuasion,  but  to  convince 
by  arguments.6  Hence  it  is  to  me  at  least  evident,  that  his  method 
was  the  dialogistic,  if  not  universally,  still  in  certain  cases,  especially 
in  the  presence  of  recently  admitted  scholars.  It  was  customary 
then  to  teach  philosophy  by  means  of  questions  and  answers,  and 
no  other  mode  of  instruction  was  fitted  so  well  to  his  doctrines  re- 


1  Olymp.  2  Orat.  XXI.  edit.  Harduini,  245. 

4  Aristot.  Physic.  IV.  2       5  Epist.  2.  70,  72. 


3  Olymp. 
6  Epist.  2.  70. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


345 


specting  ideas.  It  seems  that  Plato  always  examined  new  students 
in  order  to  ascertain  whether  they  were  furnished  with  the  neces- 
sary qualifications.  This  examination  consisted  in  his  presenting  to 
them  before  every  thing  else  the  excellence  of  philosophy,  and  also 
the  difficulties  with  which  one  must  struggle,  and  the  exertions  which 
he  must  make,  in  order  to  obtain  possession  of  it.  If  by  such 
representations,  the  desire  was  not  suppressed  but  rather  strengthen- 
ed, if  zeal  and  unquenchable  interest  gleamed  forth,  he  regarded  it 
as  a  good  omen,  and  believed  that  such  pupils  had  the  talents  and 
dispositions  to  dedicate  themselves  to  philosophy.1  Perhaps  he  gave 
to  them  certain  propositions  and  problems,  and  allowed  them  to  make 
trial  of  their  powers,  so  that  they  might  see  whether  they  could 
search  out  in  their  own  reflection,  the  necessary  arguments  and 
proofs.  This  exertion,  this  calling  to  self-reflection  was  a  part  of 
the  examination  to  which  he  subjected  new  pupils.2  The  study  of  the 
mathematics  was  regarded  as  a  preparatory  exercise  to  philosophy, 
as  it  accustomed  the  mind  to  self-knowledge,  and,  what  Plato  parti- 
cularly valued,  to  the  use  of  the  pure  reason.  According  to  Brucker, 
Plato  required  of  his  pupils  that  they  should  make  themselves  per- 
fectly acquainted  with'mathematics  before  they  commenced  the  study 
of  philosophy.  But  though  he  has  brought  no  definite  testimony  in 
favor  of  this  conclusion,  still  every  one  will  think  it  probable  that 
Plato  gave  instructions  to  his  disciples  in  this  science,  since  it  has 
so  intimate  a  connection  with  philosophy,  and  since  he  was  not  far 
from  being  the  greatest  mathematician  of  his  time. 

The  Platonic  school  had  some  resemblance  to  the  Pythagorean, 
inasmuch  as  the  improvement  of  the  heart  was  united  with  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  understanding.  For  this  purpose,  Pythagoras  had  in- 
troduced a  kind  of  orderly  arrangement  which  required  of  the  mem- 
bers a  strict  observance  of  certain  rules,  and  by  means  of  subordi- 
nation and  discipline  which  were  inseparably  attendant,  he  exercised 
control  over  them.  Plato  did  not  adopt  this  regulation,  but  followed, 
in  respect  to  it,  an  entirely  different  maxim.  Without  giving  him- 
self the  air  and  appearance  of  a  king,  who  is  used  only  to  command, 
he  sought  to  educate  the  moral  character  of  his  friends  and  to 
amend  their  faults,  while  by  means  of  arguments,  admonitions 
and  his  own  example,  he  influenced  their  mode  of  thinking  and  ac- 
tion in  a  way  which  was  consistent  with  their  native  rights  and  per- 


Epist.  7.  1-27,  128. 


44 


«  Epist.  a  70. 


346 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


sonal  freedom.  By  such  means,  he  brought  Speusippus  back  to  a 
better  mind,  who  in  his  youth  had  trodden  the  hazardous  path  of 
dissipation.  The  sharp  reproofs  and  admonitions  of  his  parents 
had  been  in  vain.  But  Plato,  by  gentle  conduct  and  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent treatment,  awakened  the  feeling  of  shame  and  the  resolution 
of  amendment.1 


CHAPTER  V. 

SECOND  RESIDENCE  IN  SYRACUSE. 

When  at  length  Plato  had  taught  for  some  years  with  much  repu- 
tation, and  had  occupied  himself  in  the  education  of  many  young 
men,  who  dedicated  themselves  partly  to  the  study  of  philosophy 
and  partly  to  an  active  life,  an  event  occurred  in  Sicily  which  at 
once  opened  a  prospect  to  a  new,  though  an  already  long-desired 
sphere  of  action.  When  Dionysius  the  Elder  had  died,  in  the  se- 
cond year  of  the  one  hundred  and  third  Olympiad,  and  his  son  Dio- 
nysius the  Younger  had  taken  his  seat  on  the  throne,  Dion  believed 
that  the  fortunate  moment  had  come  in  which  Syracuse  and  all  Si- 
cily could  be  placed  in  a  desirable  situation  of  rest,  security  and 
freedom,  if  only  a  moral  sense  and  love  of  wisdom  could  be  awa- 
kened in  the  young  king,  and  if  he  might  be  made  to  form  the  resolu- 
tion of  reigning  rather  as  a  king  having  respect  to  the  law,  than  as  a 
mere  arbitrary  monarch.  Plato  seemed  to  Dion  to  be  the  only  man  who, 
by  his  mind  and  character,  could  effect  in  Dionysius  so  great  and 
important  a  change.  It  could  not  appear  to  him  to  be  a  difficult 
matter  to  induce  Dionysius  to  invite  Plato  to  his  court,  since  inter- 
course with  the  greatest  philosopher  of  his  time  must  necessarily  ap- 
pear as  something  quite  flattering  to  a  very  ambitious  young  man. 
Dionysius  also  experienced  in  fact  the  want  of  a  careful  education, 
wherein  he  had  been  wholly  neglected  by  his  father,  and  also  a  defi- 
ciency in  attainments  without  which  a  king  can  be  no  king,  or  in- 
deed a  very  miserable  man,  and  in  which  deficiency  he  had  had  an 

1  PJut.  de  Discrimine  Aniici  et  Adul  71   thq)  (filabtlqias  p.  491. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


347 


example  in  his  father.  For  these  reasons  he  invited  Plato,  in  a  very 
honorable  way,  to  his  court.  At  the  same  time  Dion  also  wrote  a 
letter  to  Plato  in  which  he  omitted  no  considerations,  which  could  in- 
fluence his  mind  to  accede  to  the  invitation.  He  presented  the 
thing  as  a  service  demanded  by  friendship.  Duty  to  mankind  laid 
him  under  obligation  to  repair,  furnished  with  counsels  and  informa- 
tion, to  the  young  ruler  ;  now  the  most  favorable  point  of  time  had 
come  in  which  to  realize  what  he  had  thought  out  in  respect  to  the 
best  political  constitution ;  now,  without  the  shedding  of  blood,  and 
in  the  way  of  persuasion,  without  any  violent  means,  a  revolution 
could  be  effected  in  the  mode  of  government,  and  all  the  Sicilians 
could  be  brought  into  a  method  of  thinking  and  acting  which  would 
harmoniously  unite  the  claims  of  reason  and  the  necessities  of  hu- 
man nature.1  Although  the  proposal  accorded,  in  the  highest  de- 
gree, with  what  Plato  was  striving  to  accomplish,  inasmuch  as  in 
part,  he  desired  to  advance  among  men  the  study  of  wisdom,  and  in 
part  to  realize,  as  far  as  possible,  his  ideal  of  a  State  ;  still  he  was  in 
so  much  doubt,  that  he  considered  the  matter  for  a  long  time  in  va- 
rious aspects  before  he  could  come  to  a  decision.  He  was  particu- 
larly solicitous  in  respect  to  the  youth  of  Dionysius  ;  he  could  pro- 
mise himself  no  constancy,  nothing  substantial  in  his  resolutions ; 
he  saw  the  possibility  that  Dionysius,  as  it  often  happens  with  young 
men,  might  be  quickly  led  astray  by  other  and  contrary  pleasures. 
Still,  the  consideration  that  Dion  had  now  reached  a  manly  age  and 
possessed  firmness  of  character ;  the  reproach  which  he  had  cast  on 
himself  that  he  could  do  nothing  but  speculate,  while  he  never 
sought  by  his  deeds  to  make  himself  useful  to  men  ;  and  finally  the 
conviction  that  it  was  his  duty  to  assist  his  friend  Dion  in  this  critical 
emergency,  and  not  to  abandon  him  for  the  sake  of  ease  or  from 
unnecessary  doubts, — all  these  considerations  induced  him  to  leave 
his  flourishing  school  and  travel  to  Sicily.2  These  were  the  real  in- 
ducements and  motives  according  to  Plato's  own  confession  and  the 
testimony  of  Plutarch  ;  and  I  find  no  reason  for  considering  them  as 
false,  and  the  less  so  since  even  the  remaining  writers  concur  as  to 
the  main  points,  and  differ  only  about  the  subordinate  matters.3 

1  Epist.  7.  99, 100. 

2  Epist.  7.  99,  103  Epist.  3.  77.  Plutarch  Dion,  962,  963,  philosophandum 
esse  cum  principibus  L.  II.  779. 

3  Apul.  368.  Corn.  Nepcs  in  Dione.  Uiog.  III.  21.  Olympiod.  .Elian 
IV.  18. 


348 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


They  all  say  that  Plato  was  invited  by  Dionysius  to  his  court,  but 
they  do  not  agree  in  respect  to  the  purpose.  Apuleius  says  that 
Plato  wished  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  laws  of  Sicily. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  Plato  actually  did  this,  but  it  could  not  have 
been  the  reason  why  Dionysius  sent  for  him.  According  to  Dio- 
genes, Plato  went,  as  it  should  seem,  uninvited,  in  quest  of  a  place 
where  he  could  realize  the  ideal  of  his  republic.  At  the  same  time, 
this  writer  subjoins  that  Plato  wished  to  infuse  into  Dion  and  Theo- 
dotes,  not  without  hazard  of  life,  a  higher  idea  of  freedom  and  a 
hatred  of  despotic  power,  which  in  its  results  hurled  Dionysius  from 
the  throne.  The  last  is  true,  but  the  first  is  false.  In  relation  to  this 
no  writer  says  any  thing  from  which  Diogenes  could  have  derived 
his  story,  except  Athenaeus,  who  considers  it  as  very  wrong  in  Plato, 
that,  through  an  unbecoming  pride,  he  sought  actually  to  establish 
his  own  republic  and  system  of  legislation.1  I  think  it  very  proba- 
ble that  the  whole  story  originated  from  a  misunderstood  passage  in 
Plato,  in  which  he  says  that  he  had  regarded  the  invitation  of  Diony- 
sius as  a  very  favorable  occurrence,  as  it  might  subject  to  actual 
experiment  that  which  he  had  conceived  in  idea  respecting  govern- 
ment and  legislation.2  This  passage  must  necessarily  mislead  all 
those  who  do  not  raise  their  conception  to  his  lofty  ideal,  so  that  they 
imagine  that  his  remarks  concerned  the  realization  of  the  republic ; 
which  was  nothing  but  the  medium  through  which  his  ideal  could 
manifest  itself.  Finally,  Diogenes  is  here  deserving  of  the  less  at- 
tention, as  he  makes  himself  guilty  of  an  incredible  negligence 
throughout  the  entire  narrative,  and  so  much  confuses  the  succession 
of  events  that  he  places  in  the  second  journey  that  which  happened 
long  after  in  the  third.  But  it  is  now  time  that  we  should  narrate 
the  consequences  of  the  journey. 

After  Plato  had  committed  to  Heraclides  Ponticus  the  oversight  of 
the  academy  and  the  course  of  instruction,  he  sailed  in  company 
with  Speusippus  to  Sicily,3  and  was  received  by  Dionysius  in  a  very 
honorable  manner.4  His  arrival  was  celebrated  as  a  festival  in  all 
Sicily,  while  every  one  promised  himself  the  happiest  changes  in  fa- 
vor of  the  island.    The  only  circumstance  that  diminished  aught 

1  Athenaeus  Lib.  XI.  2  Epist.  7.  101. 

3  Suidas  in  Heraclides  Epist.  2.  73. 

4  Plin.  Hist.  N.  VII.  30.  .Elian  V.  18. 


LIFE  OF  FLATO. 


349 


from  the  general  joy  was  that  Plato  came  from  Athens,  which  not 
long  before  had  devised  a  plan  to  overthrow  freedom  in  Sicily.  In 
fact  the  endeavors  of  Plato  and  his  influence  over  the  mind  of  Dio- 
nysius  were  so  successful,  that  the  most  important  consequences 
might  be  anticipated.  Plato  began  by  trying  to  awaken  in  Dionysius 
a  susceptibility  for  the  pleasure  which  mental  cultivation  supplies. 
By  means  of  mathematics  he  sought  to  prepare  his  intellect  for  phi- 
losophy. This  proceeding  of  Plato  gives  us  a  happy  proof  of  his 
sagacity,  and  of  his  insight  into  the  character  of  Dionysius,  who 
was  not  destitute  of  good  capacities,  and  who  was  possessed  of  great 
ambition,  though,  in  the  constant  intoxication  of  pleasures,  he  remain- 
ed uneducated.  For  this  ambition  Plato  opened  innocent  scope, 
where  the  understanding  of  the  king  could  find  sufficient  reason  and 
motive  for  improvement,  while  at  the  same  time  Plato  could  after- 
wards labor  the  more  diligently  to  improve  the  heart  by  the  cultivation 
of  the  reason.  Dionysius  found  very  great  satisfaction  in  the  study  of 
the  mathematics,  and  gave  himself  to  it  with  a  sort  of  passion.  This 
example  the  whole  court  followed,  and  the  entire  palace  was  now  cov- 
ered with  sand.  Frugality  reigned  at  the  table,  and  modesty  in  the 
outward  deportment.  Dionysius,  by  his  striking  course  of  conduct, 
showed  that  he  perceived  how  shameful  it  was  for  him  to  be  a  tyrant 
and  a  despot.1  This  revolution  in  the  young  prince's  mode  of  think- 
ing and  of  acting  was  too  obvious  and  considerable  to  allow  the  court- 
party, who  were  contending  against  Dion,  not  to  mark  the  danger  which 
threatened  a  sorrowful  end  to  their  influence  and  power.  They  per- 
ceived that  they  were  too  feeble  to  injure  the  reputation  of  Plato  and 
Dion,  and  they  saw  that  it  was  necessary  to  place  a  man  at  their 
head,  who  by  his  eloquence  could  again  restore  their  sinking  cause. 
Such  a  man  was  Philistus,  (called  also  Philistides),  a  celebrated  his- 
torian whom  Dionysius  the  Elder  had  expelled  from  Sicily.  Diony- 
sius allowed  himself  to  be  easily  persuaded  by  his  courtiers  to  invite 
this  Philistus  again  to  his  court.  He  here  took  the  lead  of  the  oppo- 
sition party,  in  order  to  sustain  the  tottering  throne  of  the  tyrant,  and 
to  be  to  the  son  as  he  had  been  to  the  father,  a  zealous  upholder  of 
despotism.  By  means  of  cabals  and  tricks,  in  which  he  was  a  mas- 
ter, he  brought  Dion  under  the  suspicion  that  in  the  disguise  of  pro- 
moting the  education  of  the  prince,  he  was  himself  striving  after  the 
throne.  Dionysius  from  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  seems  to  have 
1  Plut.  Dion.  963. 


350 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


suspected  the  dispositions  of  Dion.  This  suspicion  Plato  could  not 
remove,  though  he  took  much  pains  to  do  so.  As  the  result  of  these 
intrigues  Dion  was  taken  off  by  guile  in  a  ship,  and  set  down  on  the 
coast  of  Italy.  When  this  took  place  Plato  had  been  three  months 
at  the  court.  All  the  friends  of  Dion  were  thrown  into  consternation 
in  consequence  of  this  unexpected  occurrence,  and  in  the  anticipa- 
tion of  no  happy  fate  from  the  suspicious  Dionysius.  Even  a  report 
went  over  Syracuse  that  Plato  was  about  to  be  executed  as  the  author 
of  all  these  troubles.  The  sympathy  which  the  friends  of  Dion  felt 
in  his  fate,  the  movements  which  were  on  foot  in  the  city,  where  the 
discontented  now  hoped  for  nothing  less  than  an  entire  revolution, 
appeared  to  Dionysius  to  betoken  no  little  danger  to  himself.  In 
order  to  avert  it.  he  assumed  a  very  friendly  air  towards  Dion's 
friends,  particularly  Plato,  and  requested  him  most  earnestly  to  re- 
main with  him.  But  at  the  same  time  he  made  such  arrangements 
as  to  compel  Plato  to  stay,  though  he  might  be  unwilling,  for  he  pla- 
ced him  in  a  castle  where,  without  his  knowledge,  no  one  could  go 
in  or  out.  Reports  were  immediately  current  in  Syracuse  that  Pla- 
to and  Dionysius  were  on  more  intimate  terms  of  friendship  than 
ever  before.  No  one  would  come  to  any  other  conclusion,  who 
looked  merely  at  external  appearances.  For  Dionysius  attached 
himself  more  and  more  to  the  philosopher,  and  appeared  to  find  in- 
creasing pleasure  in  his  society.  He  became  extremely  jealous  be- 
cause Plato  entertained  a  better  esteem  for  Dion  than  for  himself, 
and  gave  him  a  higher  place  in  his  friendship.  From  this  rank  Di- 
onysius wished  to  degrade  Dion  in  order  to  elevate  himself.  He 
would  gladly  have  indemnified  Plato  for  this  loss  with  the  office  of 
first  minister  if  he  could  have  accepted  it  without  prejudice  to  his 
principles.  But  Plato  maintained  steadfastly  his  honor.  He  would 
not  have  hesitated  to  put  Dionysius  on  an  equal  footing  in  re- 
spect to  friendship  and  esteem,  if  the  latter  would  have  elevated  his 
character  to  that  of  Plato  by  means  of  true  love  and  inclination  for 
philosophy,  or  could  he  have  been  imbued  with  a  similar  mode  of 
thinking.  This  was  the  object  of  Plato's  journey,  and  he  labored  in- 
cessantly, though  in  vain,  to  accomplish  it.  Dionysius,  at  this  period, 
was  very  reserved  and  distrustful.  Philistus  and  his  faction  had  in- 
fused into  him  an  inextinguishable  suspicion,  as  though  Plato's  labors 
were  wholly  directed  to  this  point,  namely,  to  remove  the  king's 
solicitude,  until  in  the  mean  time,  Dion  could  get  possession  of  the 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


351 


government.1  Plato,  at  length,  earnestly  pressed  for  permission  to 
depart.  Meanwhile  Dionysius  was  involved  in  a  war,  and  in  conse- 
quence gave  his  consent  the  more  willingly.  Still  he  compelled 
Plato  to  promise  that  he  would  return  so  soon  as  peace  should  be 
restored.  Plato  assented  to  it ;  for  what  had  a  refusal  availed  him  ? 
but  still  on  the  condition  that  Dion  should  return  with  him  to  his  na- 
tive land.9  Plato  then  went  back  to  Athens.  Speusippus,  however, 
remained,  as  it  appears,  in  Syracuse.3  Plato  had  previously  estab- 
lished certain  relations  between  Dionysius,  Archytas  and  other  Py- 
thagoreans, which  had  great  influence  on  his  subsequent  fates.4  In 
political  affairs  Plato  interfered  but  very  little,  especially  because  he 
foresaw  that  his  proposals  would  not  be  carried  into  effect.  There 
was  the  additional  circumstance,  that  after  the  banishment  of  Dion, 
his  influence  was  far  less  than  it  had  been  before,  and  the  opposite 
party  were  only  too  much  rejoiced  to  lay  to  his  account  all  those 
measures  and  acts  of  the  government,  which  notwithstanding  might 
be  wholly  at  variance  with  the  laws  of  justice  and  the  maxims  of 
Plato.  In  this  way  they  accomplished  two  objects ;  they  freed  them- 
selves from  all  public  reproach,  and  they  turned  upon  Plato  the  ha- 
tred of  the  people.  Still  Plato,  as  long  as  he  enjoyed  through  the 
presence  of  Dion  an  unobstructed  sphere  of  action,  turned  his  efforts 
to  the  improvement  of  the  form  of  government,  and  to  the  supplying 
of  its  manifest  deficiencies.  It  is  probable  that  he  advised  Dionysius 
at  this  time,  to  reestablish  the  Greek  republics  in  Sicily,  to  give  them 
good  laws  and  constitutions,  so  that  they  might  live  with  one  another 
in  harmony  and  friendship,  and  make  common  cause  against  the 
assaults  of  the  Carthaginians.  He  counselled  him  also  further  to 
change  the  despotic  form  of  government  into  a  regal,  that  is,  into 
such  a  form  as  would  be  itself  in  subjection  to  general  laws.5  He 
added  some  prefaces  and  introductions  to  the  laws,  but  which,  as  he 
says,  contained  some  other  additions,  from  whose  hand  he  knows 
not.6 

1  Plut.  loc.  cit.  Epist.  7.  112. 

2  Epist.  7.  103—106.    Epist.  3.  77,  78.    Plut.  Dion.  962,  964. 

3  Epist.  2.  73.  4  Epist.  7.  123,  125.    Plut.  Dion.  965. 
'  Epist.  3.  75.  7.  111.         6  Epist.  3.  76. 


352 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THIRD  RESIDENCE  IN  SYRACUSE. 

When  Plalo  returned  to  Athens,  he  found  Dion  in  that  city,  where 
he  had  never  before  met  him.  Dion  here  sought  to  improve  his 
character ;  and  as  he  had  in  his  manner  something  gloomy  and  se- 
vere, Plato  advised  him  to  acquire  by  constant  intercourse  with 
Speusippus  habits  of  amenity  and  grace.1  At  this  time  Plato  exhibi- 
ted a  chorus  to  the  Athenians  in  his  best  manner.2  Dion  bore  all  the 
necessary  expenses,  while  Plato  rejoiced  to  grant  him  this  opportu- 
nity to  secure  for  himself  the  good  will  of  the  Athenians.3  In  the 
meantime  Plato  still  carried  on  a  correspondence  with  Dionysius. 
He  still  cherished  the  hope  that  when  the  war  was  ended,  Dionysius 
would  invite  Dion  back,  while  he  also  desired  that  in  the  interval 
the  king  would  cherish  no  unfriendly  feelings  towards  him.  Conse- 
quently Plato  did  everything  which  was  in  his  power  to  suppress  his 
displeasure.  He  still  retained  the  hope  that  he  should  entirely 
reconcile  them  with  each  other,  and  he  held  the  claim  of  Dionysius 
to  be  reasonable  so  long  as  he  did  not  become  openly  faithless  to  his 
word.4  As  soon  as  peace  was  restored  in  Sicily,  Dionysius  wrote  to 
Plato  that  he  ought  now,  in  conformity  with  his  promise,  to  come 
again  to  the  Syracusan  court,  but  added  that  Dion  must  wait  another 
year.  Though  Dion  urged  Plato  to  gratify  the  desire  of  the  prince, 
for  the  report  was  current  that  Dionysius  was  now  more  than  ever 
interested  in  philosophy,  still  Plato  without  hesitation  refused,  as  he 
was  now  becoming  old,  and  Dionysius  had  not  kept  his  word.5  In 
the  mean  time,  it  mortified  the  king  extremely  that  he  had  received 
a  negative  answer,  and  he  believed  that  every  body  would  see  that 
it  was  because  Plato  entertained  no  good  opinion  of  his  character,  or 
of  conduct  towards  the  philosophers.  In  order  to  make  good  this  defi- 
ciency, he  invited  to  his  court  in  an  ambitious  manner,  according  to 
the  testimony  of  Plutarch,  other  philosophers,  who  had  only  a  mea- 
sure of  celebrity,  or  he  enticed  them  by  the  good  reception  which  he 
gave  them.6    About  this  time  too  Archytas  came  from  Tarentum  to 

1  Plut.  Dion.  964.  2  A  dramatic  entertainment.  3  Flut.  Dion.  964. 
4  Plat.  Dion.  964.       5  Kpist.  7.  122.  ;\.  76.  y  PlUt.  Dion.  965. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


353 


Syracuse.  All  these  men,  together  with  other  friends  of  Dion,  who 
had  obtained  some  scattered  fragments  of  the  Platonic  philosophy, 
often  engaged  with  Dionysius  in  conversation  on  philosophical  sub- 
jects, on  the  supposition  that  he  was  thoroughly  initiated  into  the 
Platonic  system.  This  was  very  flattering  to  the  king,  though  he 
suffered  not  a  little  shame,  as  he  had  betrayed  his  ignorance  before 
the  eyes  of  all.1  His  mortified  pride  allowed  him  no  rest,  until  he 
had  sought  anew  every  means  to  prevail  on  Plato  to  come  once 
more  to  his  court.  Here  we  must  remember  that  it  was  not  so 
much  a  longing  after  mental  cultivation,  as  it  was  pride,  which 
thought  itself  scorned,  together  with  the  hope  of  gaining  that  preemi- 
nence himself  in  the  friendship  of  Plato,  which  Dion  had  maintained, 
that  operated  as  a  motive  on  Dionysius.  From  this  trait  in  the  cha- 
racter of  Dionysius,  and  also  from  the  weakness  which  allowed  him 
to  be  controlled  by  others,  the  nature  of  the  results  of  Plato's  first  and 
second  journeys  may  be  perfectly  comprehended. 

Dionysius  now  despatched  for  the  third  time  a  three-rowed  galley 
for  Plato,  with  a  letter,  in  which  he  very  earnestly  pressed  him  to 
come  to  him,  and  on  the  subject  of  the  condition  respecting  Dion,  he 
promised  to  do  whatever  Plato  might  desire.  At  the  same  time 
came  many  friends  of  Dion  and  of  Plato  from  Sicily,  who  urged 
him  to  undertake  the  journey.  Dionysius,  in  order  to  leave  noth- 
ing untried,  had  induced  Archytas  and  the  other  Pythagoreans  to 
despatch  urgent  letters  of  invitation  to  Plato.  In  Athens  also  no  in- 
citement was  wanting.  All  his  friends,  particularly  Dion  who  had 
received  an  explicit  charge  to  this  effect  from  his  wife  and  sister, 
urged  him  to  decide  in  favor  of  going.  Entreaties  and  urgent  re- 
quests from  so  many  quarters,  friendship  for  Dion  and  the  Pythago- 
reans, the  desire  once  more  to  reconcile  Dion  and  Dionysius,  and  as 
far  as  possible  to  improve  the  character  of  the  latter, — all  these 
things  taken  together  induced  him  at  length  to  undertake  this  second 
journey,  although  he  himself  predicted  no  very  favorable  issue. 

At  his  coming  every  patriot  in  Sicily  rejoiced,  hoping  that  he  would 
now  get  the  victory  over  Philistus,  and  philosophy  over  despotism.2 
But  the  result  did  not  correspond  with  these  general  wishes.  From 
the  first,  Plato  considered  it  necessary  to  put  Dionysius  to  the  test, 
in  order  to  determine  whether  his  anxiety  for  philosophical  attain- 

1  Epist.  7.  124.  Plut.  loc.  cit.  2  Epist.  3.  78.  7.  124-12G.  Plut.  1.  c. 

3  Plut.  1.  c. 

45 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


ments  was  really  as  great  as  it  had  been  represented  to  him.  When, 
however,  he  had  held  conversations  with  the  king,  and  had  exhibited 
the  difficulties  as  well  as  the  dignity  of  the  subject,  and  had  stated 
some  of  the  higher  positions  of  the  philosophy,  Plato  became  convinced 
at  once,  that  the  king's  desire  for  knowledge  was  not  pure  and  genuine, 
but  flowed  from  pride,  ambition  and  self-love.  Hence  he  would  not 
confess  his  ignorance,  but  gave  himself  the  airs  of  one  who  already 
knew  everything.  Plato  therefore  entirely  gave  up  the  undertak- 
ing.1 Rather  he  now  commenced  his  negotiations  in  respect  to  Dion, 
and  desired  that  Dionysius  in  accordance  with  his  promise  would  invite 
him  again  to  Sicily  and  restore  to  him  the  free  use  of  his  estate. 
But  Dionysius  gave  no  heed  to  the  matter  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  for- 
bade the  guardians  who  had  been  placed  over  the  estate,  to  take  care 
of  it,  or  to  transmit  the  income  to  Dion  in  the  Peloponnesus,  since, 
as  Dionysius  said,  the  estate  did  not  belong  to  Dion,  but  to  his  son, 
of  whom  he  himself  as  his  uncle  was  lawful  guardian.  Plato,  in  the 
highest  degree  displeased  and  dissatisfied  not  only  with  the  king  but 
with  himself  and  with  those  who  had  induced  him  to  undertake  this 
journey,  made  immediate  preparations  for  his  departure,  as  it  was 
now  the  season  of  summer  when  the  ships  sailed  away.  Dionysius 
indeed  was  very  earnest  that  he  would  remain  longer,  but  he  adhe- 
red to  his  determination.  The  king  now  thought  of  other  means  by 
which  he  might  change  his  purpose.  For  he  believed  that  his  own 
reputation  would  suffer,  if  Plato  departed  so  soon,  and  his  ambition 
was  only  directed  to  this  point,  namely,  that  the  philosopher,  who 
was  an  inmate  of  his  house,  should  become  his  special  friend,  and 
should  prefer  him  to  Dion.  In  respect  to  the  means  of  effecting  this, 
he  behaved  like  a  despot,  who  regards  his  own  will  as  the  highest 
law,  and  claims  to  tyrannize  over  freedom  by  his  arbitrary  power. 

1  Epist.  7.  127,  12').  Plato  says  that,  as  he  had  understood,  Dionysius 
had  committed  some  things  to  writing  as  his  own  discoveries  which  he  had 
heard  from  others.  Yet  this  was  not  known  to  him  for  certainty.  Epist.  7. 
199.  From  this  and  the  second  letter,  it  is  very  manifest  that  Plato  had 
communicated  to  Dionysius  some  points  in  his  secret  philosophy.  But  it 
was  very  unpleasant  to  the  philosopher,  with  his  mode  of  thinking,  that  Di- 
onysius should  make  these  things  publicly  known.  But  wherefore  ?  Was 
it  any  sudden  fit  of  a  haughty  self-love  ?  According  to  what  he  states  to  us, 
these  things  were  of  such  a  character,  that  they  could  not  be  communicated 
to  the  public.  In  another  place,  I  will  try  to  solve  this  riddle,  so  far  as  it  is 
possible. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


355 


He  thus,  for  a  mere  pretence,  made  new  proposals  in  order  to  retain 
Plato.  Dion  was  to  remain  in  the  Peloponnesus,  not  as  an  exile,  but  as 
a  friend  who  might  be  permitted  to  return  so  soon  as  it  was  found  to 
be  best  for  the  common  good  ;  still  wilh  the  condition  that  he  would 
undertake  nothing  hostile  to  the  king.    Dion  was  to  promise  this, 
and  Plato  with  his  friends  were  to  stand  sureties.    Dion's  income 
would  be  sent  to  the  Peloponnesus  or  to  Athens  and  be  deposited  with 
some  man  whom  the  parties  themselves  might  propose,  so  that  Dion 
should  not  have  the  free  use  of  it,  because  it  was  impossible  to  trust 
him,  since  he  had  so  large  an  amount  of  property  in  his  hands, 
(about  one  hundred  talents).    Plato  could,  if  he  was  pleased  with 
the  proposition,  remain  another  year  and  then  depart  with  the  money. 
Although  this  entire  arrangement  was  displeasing  to  Plato  in  the 
highest  degree,  still  he  felt  it  necessary  for  the  sake  of  prudence  to 
request  a  little  time  for  reflection.    After  mature  examination  he 
judged  it  best  to  assent  to  the  proposal,  rather  than  attempt  to  de- 
part contrary  to  the  will  of  the  king,  since  the  latter  project  might 
be  rendered  wholly  impracticable,  and  thereby  Dion's  case  might  be 
rendered  still  worse.    When  therefore  he  made  known  his  deter- 
mination to  Dionysius,  Plato  subjoined  that  he  could  not  believe  that 
Dionysius  would  treat  Dion  as  a  master  does  his  slaves ;  that  they 
must  have  Dion's  own  free  explanation  of  the  case,  and  consequently 
a  letter  must  be  written  to  him.    Dionysius  was  satisfied  with  this. 
In  the  mean  time,  the  ships  set  sail.    Immediately  thereupon  Diony- 
sius stated  that  he  could  deliver  up  to  Dion  only  one  half  of  his  pro- 
perty, as  the  other  half  belonged  to  his  son.    Plato  heard  this  with 
the  utmost  astonishment,  but  said  nothing  in  relation  to  it,  further 
than  that  they  must  await  the  answer  of  Dion.  As  Dionysius  caused 
the  effects  of  Dion  to  be  sold  at  once,  Plato  saw  that  it  was  but  too 
evident  that  all  representations  and  negotiations  would  be  fruitless, 
and  he  concluded  to  observe  thereafter  a  profound  silence.  During 
this  whole  time  Dionysius  retained  the  philosopher,  as  it  were,  in 
imprisonment, — for  he  dwelt  in  the  castle  garden,  where  no  one 
could  go  in  or  out  without  permission.    Plato,  however,  longed  for 
freedom.    Still,  the  Sicilians  conceived  that  Dionysius  and  Plato 
were  good  friends,  for  neither  disclosed  to  others  their  reciprocal  re- 
lations, although  Dionysius,  by  means  of  complaisant  treatment  and 
caresses,  subjected  himself  to  all  possible  pains  to  win  over  the 
philosopher  and  draw  him  away  from  the  friendship  of  Dion. 


356 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


Meanwhile  a  mutiny  occurred  among  the  mercenary  soldiers,  whose 
pay  Dionysius  wished  to  diminish.  This  could  not  be  quieted,  ex- 
cept as  Dionysius  would  grant  whatever  they  desired,  and  even  al- 
low still  more.  Common  rumor  made  Heraclides,  a  friend  of  Dion, 
the  author  of  the  trouble  ;  he  was  consequently  compelled  to  conceal 
himself  or  to  flee.  Another  friend  of  Dion,  Theodotes,  going  to 
Dionysius,  requested  him  to  give  up  all  persecution  of  Heraclides ; 
he  believed  that  Heraclides  would  appear  and  defend  himself,  if  he 
could  have  a  safe  passport.  Dionysius  engaged  to  do  so  in  the  pre- 
sence of  Plato,  but  he  did  not  keep  his  word.  Plato  made  represen- 
tations, but  they  were  contemptuously  rejected.  Dionysius  now  be- 
lieved that  it  was  entirely  manifest  that  Plato  was  fully  committed  to 
the  party  of  Dion.  He  then  felt  compelled  to  remove  him  from  the 
castle-garden  to  the  Archedemus,  since  the  court  ladies  performed 
their  private  sacred  rites  in  the  garden.  Plato  now  excited  the 
wrath  of  the  king  anew  on  account  of  his  conversation  with  The- 
odotes. He  was  therefore  directed  to  reside  among  the  mer- 
cenary soldiers,  a  situation  which  proved  to  be  unsafe  for  him,  it 
having  been  commonly  reported  that  Plato  endeavored  to  persuade 
Dionysius  to  dismiss  his  body-guard — a  circumstance  which  might 
probably  have  happened  previously.  At  length,  when  Plato  heard 
that  some  soldiers  had  conspired  to  murder  him,  he  informed  Ar- 
chytas  of  his  critical  situation.  Archytas,  under  the  pretext  of  pub- 
lic business,  despatched  a  certain  Lamiscus  to  the  king,  who  obtain- 
ed permission  for  Plato  to  depart.  Dionysius  was  still  so  friendly 
that  he  paid  the  expenses  of  the  journey.1  Plutarch  says  that  Ar- 
chytas himself  wrote  to  Dionysius,  and  Diogenes  has  actually  intro- 
duced a  letter  of  this  tenor  into  his  biography  of  Archytas.  But  Plato 
makes  no  mention  of  it.2  On  his  homeward  voyage,  Plato  landed 
in  Elis,  at  the  time  of  the  celebration  of  the  Olympic  games.  As 
he  here  met  with  his  friend  Dion,  he  related  to  him  his  fortunes  and 
the  results  of  his  journey.  Dion  immediately  declared  that  he  would 
punish  the  tyrant  for  the  iniquitous  and  faithless  conduct  of  which 
he  had  been  guilty  towards  himself  and  towards  Plato.  In  such  an 
undertaking,  however,  Plato  would  take  no  part,  and  for  various  rea- 
sons.   He  had  now,  as  he  said,  become  too  old.    Dion  had  drawn 

1  These  statements  may  be  found  in  Epist.  3.  tO— fe2.  7.  137—148.  Plut. 
Dion.  065,  966. 
*  Dion.  966. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


357 


him,  as  it  were,  contrary  to  his  will,  into  friendship  wiih  Dionysius, 
which  even  now  he  would  respect,  especially  since  Dionysius  had 
still  so  much  regard  for  him  that  he  had  not  exposed  him  to  the  mur- 
derous designs  of  his  enemies;  he  would  therefore  remain  wholly 
neutral,  so  that  he  might  yet  be  able  to  effect  a  reconciliation  be- 
tween them.1  After  his  return,  Plato  wrote  once  more  to  Diony- 
sius— this  is  the  third  of  the  extant  letters — and  defended  himself 
against  various  aspersions. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

VINDICATION  OF  PLATO'S  CHARACTER. 

I  hope  my  readers  will  not  censure  me  because  I  have  been  some- 
what diffuse  in  the  delineation  of  these  two  journies.  They  are  the 
only  fragments  of  his  life  which  are  in  a  degree  connected,  and  they 
are  the  more  precious,  as  without  them  we  should  know  almost  no- 
thing of  his  character,  deportment  and  maxims.  His  abode  and  his 
conduct  at  the  court  of  Dionysius,  caused  him  already  in  his  lifetime 
many  reproaches  and  unreasonable  censures,  which  modern  literati 
have  repeated,  and  to  which  they  have  added  others,  so  that  his  cha- 
racter has  often  been  placed  in  an  unfavorable  light.  Without  these 
narratives,  we  should  indeed  have  still  had  reason  for  rejecting  the 
unfavorable  opinions,  since  his  whole  life  would  have  presented  so 
many  refutations  of  the  false  or  of  the  merely  half-correct  stories, 

1  Epist.  7.  149.  Pint.  Dion.  9G7.  I  must  here  adduce  some  incorrect 
statements  of  certain  writers,  by  which  we  can  see,  through  a  few  examples, 
how  negligent  the  later  writers  often  are.  For  instance,  Apuleius  remarks 
that  Plato  had  actually  reconciled  Dion  and  Dionysius  and  had  obtained  per- 
mission for  Dion  to  return  to  Sicily,  p  363.  After  the  second  journey, 
says  Olympiodorus,  Dion  was  plundered  of  his  estate  and  thrown  into  pri- 
son. Dionysius  promised  him  his  liberty  on  condition  that  he  would  induce 
Plato  to  come  to  his  court  the  second  time.  The  same,  according  to  Olym- 
piodorus, was  the  object  of  his  third  visit.  Diogenes  Laertius,  III.  21,  22, 
with  his  accustomed  carelessness,  places  the  hazard  of  life  which  Plato  in- 
curred, in  his  second  journey. 


358 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


and  partial  or  fugitive  opinions  which  are  current;  but  we 
should  have  wanted  almost  entirely  the  sources  and  the  reasons 
of  them,  and  the  surest  means  for  testing  them.  I  will  add  a  few 
only  of  the  reproaches  which  his  censurers  have  alleged  against 
him,  and  inquire  whether  they  can  be  actually  justified  on  sure 
grounds.  In  the  first  place  Plato  is  blamed  for  having  preferred 
the  Syracusan  luxuries  to  frugality  and  temperance.1  This  accusa- 
tion is  contained  in  a  letter  whose  author  is  uncertain,  and  which 
may,  on  that  account,  be  regarded  as  unimportant.  But  it  is 
directly  contradicted  by  the  character  of  Plato,  and  by  the  fact  that 
he,  at  one  time,  introduced  habits  of  economy  into  the  court  of  Dio- 
nysius.2  Plato,  it  is  further  alleged,  was  not  free  from  a  dishonora- 
ble aspiration  for  the  favor  of  great  men,  and  that  this  was  a  princi- 
pal motive  for  his  Sicilian  journies.  Or  perhaps  he  wished  to  enrich 
himself  by  courting  princes.3  But  the  history  of  his  travels,  his 
conduct  at  the  court  and  his  constancy  in  the  friendship  of  Dion  so 
fully  refute  the  first  allegation,  that  I  will  not  say  a  word  further 
about  it.  The  second  charge  is  more  plausible,  especially  if  we  re- 
gard the  thirteenth  letter  as  genuine.  In  order  to  judge  properly  in 
respect  to  this  subject,  we  must  first  determine  what  property  Plato 
then  possessed,  and  in  what  relation  he  then  stood  to  Dionysius.  It 
is  probable  that  the  inheritance  which  he  received  from  his  father 
was  not  great,  still  it  was  considerable.  After  his  travels  had  some- 
what diminished  it,  the  deficiency  was  made  up  in  the  garden  given 
him  by  Dion  or  Anniceris.  We  must  also  here  take  into  the  ac- 
count, that  Plato  possessed  the  means  of  living,  with  his  habits  of 
frugality  and  temperance,  in  an  agreeable  and  independent  manner. 
We  do  not  learn  that  he  taught  for  definite  wages,  a  practice  which 
he  so  severely  censures  in  the  sophists.  But  notwithstanding,  we 
may  conclude  on  good  grounds  that  his  scholars  and  friends  gave 
him  liberty  to  make  use  of  their  property  when  and  as  he  wished, 
and  that  he  thus  did  avail  himself  when  it  was  necessary.4  We 
may  further  suppose  that  Dionysius,  who  sought  out  with  a  kind 

1  Epist.  I.  Xenophontis.  2  Plut.  Dione.  963. 

3  Meiner's  Geschichte  der  Wissenchaften  II.  683. 

4  Epist.  13.  173,  174.  From  the  latter  passage  it  is  evident  that  Plato, 
with  the  help  of  his  friends  and  pupils,  took  care  to  provide  his  female  rela- 
tives with  dowries,  if  their  fathers  or  mothers  were  dead.  This  was  a  cus- 
tom among  the  Athenians. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


359 


of  ambition  all  necessary  means  by  which  he  could  draw  Plato  to 
his  court,  would  not  have  omitted  to  make  use  of  the  great  wealth 
which  he  possessed  ;  and  we  may  conclude  with  entire  safety  from 
the  passages  last  quoted  that  Dionysius  actually  offered  him  the  un- 
restricted use  of  his  funds. 

It  is  also  settled,  if  the  eighth  letter  is  genuine,  which  still  I  do 
not  maintain,  that  the  whole  sum  which  he  had  received  from  Dio- 
nysius after  his  second  journey  amounted  to  only  fifty-six  minae,  an 
amount,  which  taken  in  connection  with  other  sums  given  him  by 
Dionysius,  would  not  prove  any  low  passion  for  gain  on  the  part  of 
Plato.  The  philosopher  looked  upon  all  this  money  as  of  no  ac- 
count in  itself ;  but  he  expended  it  in  part  in  the  works  of  benevo- 
lence, and  in  part  in  expenditures  necessary  and  becoming  to  one  in 
his  condition.  Here  agree  very  well  some  anecdotes  which  Plutarch 
and  Diogenes  mention,  according  to  which  Plato  received  no  pre- 
sent in  money  from  Dionysius,  but  only  some  books.1  If  Dionysius 
sometimes  lost  sight  of  his  friendship  to  Plato  and  made  him  feel  the 
arm  of  despotism,  he  treated  him,  as  some  writers  intimate,  in  no 
other  way  than  as  he  deserved  to  be  treated,  inasmuch  as  Plato  un- 
der the  mask  of  friendship  had  projected  a  plan  with  Dion  to  de- 
throne Dionysius.  But  this  charge  seems  to  me  to  be  in  the  highest 
degree  unjust.  The  enemies  of  Dion  and  Plato  and  of  their  good 
cause,  circulated  these  reports  in  order  to  infuse  suspicion  into  the 
king,  and  to  hinder  the  political  reform  which  they  hated  on  per- 
sonal grounds.2  Plato  in  the  beginning  was  always  open  and  can- 
did. He  censured  cautiously  what  was  worthy  of  blame  ;  he  re- 
peatedly counselled  Dionysius  to  rule  as  a  king  over  free  subjects, 
and  he  became  more  reserved  only  as  he  found  that  the  reproaches 
of  his  adversaries  were  listened  to.  He  moreover,  as  soon  as  it 
was  practicable,  separated  himself  from  the  king.  Had  his  heart  been 
capable  of  such  malice,  he  would  certainly  have  adopted  a  wholly 
different  course,  and  by  flattery,  complaisance  and  a  forward  man- 
ner would  have  been  sure  of  Dionysius.  When  the  enmity  between 
Dion  and  Dionysius  broke  out  into  open  war,  he  was  so  grieved  that 
he  took  no  part  in  it,  but  still  endeavored  to  restore  peace.  He  was 
ever  firm  and  unshaken  in  his  principles,  and  conducted  towards 
Dion  and  Dionysius  in  accordance  with  the  same  maxims.3    He  was 


1  Flut.  Dion.  965.  Diog.  11.  81. 

3  Plut.  de  Discrimine  Amici  et  Adul.  52. 


2  Epist.  7.  112. 


360 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


impartial  towards  both,  but  he  owed  the  greatest  degree  of  esteem 
to  the  most  worthy. 

With  more  ground  we  might  perhaps  consider  that  a  certain  pride 
and  ambition  were  faults  in  Plato's  character.  But  these  passions  did 
not  have  unlimited  sway  over  his  heart ;  he  followed  virtue  and 
probity,  and  next  to  these,  he  strove  to  acquire  the  qualities  of  a 
cultivated  and  independent  mind  in  every  thing  ;  but  there  was  still 
conspicuous  in  all  his  actions  an  endeavor  to  exhibit  these  qualities 
before  the  public.  He  was  conscious  of  possessing  these  properties 
of  intellect  and  of  heart,  and  he  attributed  to  this  consciousness  a 
too  great  importance.  It  appeared  as  if  there  were  a  certain  satis- 
faction with  which  he  called  the  attention  of  Dionysius  to  the  repu- 
tation, which  he  had  at  that  time  acquired,  and  which  gave  him  the 
first  rank  among  all  contemporary  philosophers  ;x  not  without  a 
kind  of  elation  he  said  of  himself,  that  he  alone  could  be  great  in  his 
own  eyes,  because  he  alone  acted  in  accordance  with  his  reason.2 
He  had  so  high  an  opinion  of  his  own  merits  as  a  writer  that  he 
maintained  that  all  which  he  had  written  was  without  stain  or  blemish.3 
It  is  possible  that  the  respect,  the  esteem,  the  love,  and  the  applause 
which  flowed  in  to  him  from  all  quarters,  caused  this  proud  self- 
conceit,  which  must  detract  very  much  from  the  value  of  his  char- 
acter, if  it  actually  belonged  to  him,  as  it  would  appear  to  have  from 
the  foregoing  reports.  But  when  I  think  again  that  our  accounts  of 
his  actual  life  are  so  very  poor  and  deficient,  it  appears  to  me  to  be 
somewhat  hazardous  to  decide  upon  his  character  from  these  solitary 
expressions. 

Then  it  is  very  probable  that  considerations  and  motives  existed 
which  required  him,  as  it  were,  to  speak  of  himself  in  this  manner. 
Certain  writers  imagined  that  they  have  found  in  some  of  his  actions 
and  thoughts  unequivocal  traces  of  an  envious  and  malicious  dispo- 
sition. It  is  only  from  this,  say  they,  conceivable  that  he  censures 
the  greatest  statesmen  with  so  little  forbearance ;  that  he  does 
nothing  but  contradict,  and  as  it  were  triumph  over  all  the  philoso- 
phers who  were  before  him,  while  he  lived  on  friendly  terms  with 

1  Epist.  2  G7.  2  Epist.  2.  64. 

3  Epist.  7,  582.  [It  will  be  recollected  that  the  Letters  in  which  Plato 
reports  these  things  of  himself  are  not  regarded  by  many  as  genuine.  Boeckh, 
however,  thinks  that  the  seventh  may  have  been  written  by  Plato. — Tr.] 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


361 


none  of  his  fellow  disciples.1  In  respect  to  iiis  relation  to  the 
disciples  of  Socrates,  I  have  already  spoken  sufficiently.  But  I  can- 
not really  conceive  how  we  can  derive  such  a  conclusion  from  any 
actual  facts.  Freedom  of  thinking  and  permission  to  communicate 
thoughts  is  an  universal  right  which  can  be  made  a  crime  in  no 
man.  It  is  apparent  that  Plato  did  nothing  else  than  make  use  of 
this  right  when  he  passed  sentence  on  the  actions  and  opinions  of 
the  dead.  If  it  is  admitted  that  this  may  be  sometimes  too 
harsh,  or  even  unjust,  still  this  is  not  a  fault  of  his  heart  but  an  error 
of  his  understanding,  which  is  always  the  case  in  partial  judgments. 
It  is  true  that  Plato  censures  many  philosophers  who  were  not  living 
and  other  distinguished  men,  but  not  all ;  he  speaks  not  only  of 
what  is  faulty  in  them,  but  of  what  is  good.  His  liberal  mode  of 
thinking,  his  readiness  to  allow  justice  to  all,  and  to  give  to  every 
one  the  merit  to  which  he  was  entitled,  appears  especially  in  his 
opinion  respecting  the  sophists.  Though  he  very  often  attacked 
their  principles  and  maxims,  still  he  did  not  deny  them  the  praise  of 
being  possessed,  for  the  most  part,  of  good  abilities  and  of  great 
stores  of  knowledge.  Besides,  we  must  not  overlook  the  circum- 
stance, that  when  he  opposed  the  opinions  of  his  contemporaries,  he 
never  names  the  individual. 

Not  less  unreasonable  is  the  reproach  which  has  been  cast  upon 
him  by  the  older  writers  and  recently  by  Plessing,  that  from  a  proud 
selfishness  he  regarded  nothing  but  his  own  opinions  as  the  truth  ; 
while  all  other  sentiments  he  looked  upon  as  erroneous  ;  that  from  a 
blind  attachment  to  the  orthodox  system  of  a  religion  of  mysteries, 
he  persecuted  all  who  thought  differently,  and  more  particularly 
hated  Democrilus  and  the  sophists,  and  treated  them  in  his  writings 
in  a  wholly  unjustifiable  manner.2  This  accusation  stands  or  falls, 
in  part,  with  the  narrative  which  we  find  in  Diogenes.  He  relates 
out  of  Aristoxenus  that  Plato  went  so  far  in  hatred  to  Democritus, 
that  he  desired  to  burn  all  his  writings  which  could  be  brought  with- 
in his  reach,  and  that  he  would  actually  have  done  it,  unless  Clineas 
and  Amyclas,  two  Pythagoreans,  had  stated  that  these  writings  were 
already  in  so  many  hands,  that  he  could  not  destroy  them.    For  the 

1  Diog.lll  2G.  Dionys.  Epist.  ad  Poiftpeium.  Aristides  Oratio  II.  Platon- 
iea.  Meiners  Geschichte  der  Wissen.  II:  687. 

2  Flessing's  Menmonium.il.  435;  Diog.  III.  35. 

46 


362 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


same  reason  Plato  makes  no  mention  of  Democritus.1  Aristoxenus 
is  indeed  in  other  respects  regarded  as  an  accurate  and  careful 
writ  er,  but  I  doubt  whether  he  deserves  this  praise  by  his  Historical 
Reminiscences,2  in  which  this  report  is  found,  since  here  he  is  a 
mere  compiler.  Still,  be  that  as  it  may,  this  narrative  appears  so 
much  like  a  fable  that  without  other  grounds  of  credibility  it  must  be 
given  up.  For  why  should  Plato  have  persecuted  Democritus 
with  such  hatred  ?  Why  moreover  burn  his  writings  ?  There  are 
some  which  contained  far  nobler  thoughts,  for  example,  those  which 
flowed  from  the  pen  of  Gorgias  and  Protagoras. 

If  Plato  had  cause  to  be  dissatisfied  with  Democritus  in  respect  to 
a  single  point,  it  must  have  been  because  he  limited  himself  merely 
to  physics,  or  to  the  exposition  of  natural  phenomena  from  natural 
causes.  But  it  appears  from  Plato's  writings  that  he  did  not  disap- 
prove of  these  investigations,  but  rather  commended  them  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  supernaturalism  of  that  day,  and  took  them  into  his 
protection  in  order  to  remove  the  reproach  that  they  tended  inevitably 
to  the  denial  of  a  God.  But  how  does  this  mode  of  thinking  agree 
with  the  conduct  of  which  the  preceding  anecdote  furnishes  an  ex- 
ample ?3  The  circumstance  that  Plato  never  mentions  the  name  of 
Democritus  appears  indeed  to  us  to  be  somewhat  strange.  Since 
the  invention  of  printing,  we  can  indeed  procure  nearly  all  the  pro- 
ducts of  learned  industry.  But  with  the  ancients,  especially  in  Plato's 
time,  it  was  certainly  a  happy  fortune  which  could  collect  the  most 
important  productions  of  the  mind.  Perhaps  we  can  here  discover 
the  cause  why  Plato  observes  so  profound  a  silence  in  respect  to 
Democritus ;  and  several  other  causes  may  have  conspired  which 
are  entirely  unknown  to  us.  I  have  already  remarked  that  Plato 
was  guilty  of  no  injustice  in  respect  to  the  services  and  talents  of  the 
sophists.  Plessing  cites  still  another  passage  in  the  tenth  book  of 
the  Laws,  where  Plato  fixes  the  punishment  of  imprisonment  and 
death  for  those  who  deny  the  existence  of  a  God  or  his  moral 
attributes.  Without  attempting  to  cast  any  light  on  the  value  or  on 
the  worthlessness  of  these  expressions,  I  will  content  myself  with  re- 
marking that  we  can  determine  only  in  a  slight  degree  Plato's  mode 
of  thinking  and  action,  from  the  expressions  which  are  contained  in 
this  book,  since  they  embraced  an  ideal  of  a  political  administration 

1  D\og.  IX.  40.  2  ano/jLvrjuovav fiata  loroQixd. 

J  Socratis  Apolog.  42,  54.    De  Legibus  VII.  Hth  Vol.  387. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


363 


which  was  never  reduced  to  experiment.  And  if  this  be  conceded, 
then  the  judgment  of  Plessingon  the  character  of  Plato,  so  far  as  it  is 
inferred  from  this  passage,  must  be  regarded  as  inconsiderate,  since 
it  will  be  found  on  more  accurate  examination  that  Plato  does  not 
consider  the  denial  of  the  divine  existence  as  an  immorality  to  be 
punished.  Finally,  how  a  man  like  Plessing,  who  had  not  only  read 
but  studied  the  writings  of  Plato,  could  err  so  widely  in  his  judgment 
as  to  attribute  to  this  philosopher  a  bigotted  mode  of  thinking  and  a 
blind  attachment  to  the  religion  of  his  country,  appears  to  me  to  be 
nothing  less  than  a  riddle,  while  one  may  find  in  almost  all  Plato's 
writings  undeniable  proofs  that  he  had  a  very  clear  insight  into  the 
errors  of  his  religion,  and  that  he  defended  with  true,  heartfelt 
earnestness,  not  the  entire  religion  as  it  was  at  that  time,  but  the 
religion  purified  from  its  fundamental  errors.  He  had  no  attach- 
ment to  those  particular  forms  of  religion  by  which  it  was  disfigured  ; 
but  the  essential  truths  of  it,  (without  which  its  existence  is  not  con- 
ceivable,) and  its  connection  with  morals,  he  rightly  judged  to  be 
attended  with  such  conviction  as  must  make  it  dear  and  valuable  to 
every  man  of  sound  mind  and  heart. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LAST    DAYS    OF  PLATO. 

It  is  a  striking  circumstance,  that  Socrates  and  Plato,  though  both 
sought  with  the  greatest  zeal  to  supplant  religious  prejudices  by 
means  of  a  more  worthy  mode  of  representation,  should,  notwith- 
standing, have  met  with  so  different  a  fate — Socrates,  in  consequence 
of  his  noble  design,  compelled  to  drink  the  cup  of  poison— Plato 
dying  in  peace  on  his  bed.  I  know  indeed,  that  it  may  be  said,  in 
order  to  account  for  this  difference,  that  the  enemies  of  Socrates  in 
fact  made  use  of  religion  only  as  a  cloak  to  give  to  their  persecution 
a  color  of  justice.  But  I  doubt  whether  this  ground  can  be  regarded 
as  sufficient.  For  if  Plato,  no  less  than  Socrates,  was  in  a  situation 
to  have  had  enemies  ;  if  even  he  also  by  so  many  free  remarks  on 
politics,  religious  and  moral  errors  and  prejudices,  must  have  ex- 


364 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


cited  against  himself  the  censure,  the  hatred  and  the  persecuting 
spirit  of  multitudes  of  men  of  all  classes,  then  it  must  still  ever  re- 
main a  problem  why  the  offended  self-love  of  the  Athenians  did  not 
use  the  same  artifice  (in  respect  to  Plato),  by  covering  itself  under 
the  cloak  of  piety.  I  will  here  hazard  a  few  conjectures  which  may 
make  this  phenomenon  in  some  measure  intelligible.  The  con- 
sequences that  followed  when  Socrates  had  attacked  these  prejudices 
in  accordance  with  his  convictions,  and  when  the  enemies  of  the 
truth  had  satiated  their  vengeance  upon  him,  were  such  that  Plato 
must  have  advised  on  the  one  hand  prudence  and  caution,  and  on 
the  other  forbearance  and  moderation.  The  opponents  of  the  new 
investigations  could  now  learn  from  experience,  that  their  violent 
measures,  however  they  might  bring  their  designs  to  a  prosper- 
ous issue,  still  tended  to  nothing  else,  than  to  expose  the  authors  to 
the  reproach  and  abhorence  of  their  contemporaries,  as  well  as  of 
succeeding  generations.  All  which  they  could  gain  was  but  for  a 
moment,  but  what  they  hazarded  was  far  more.  While  these  con- 
siderations must  have  in  fact  limited  the  intolerance  and  the  perse- 
cuting spirit,  (that  they  had  an  influence  I  conclude  from  the 
fact  that  Socrates  was  the  last  bloody  victim),  they  must  certainly 
have  been  in  a  great  degree  the  fruit  of  the  influence  which  Plato, 
Xenophon,  and  other  disciples  of  Socrates  exerted  by  their  writings 
on  their  contemporaries.  Although  by  these  means  violent  assaults 
on  freedom  of  thought  were  either  driven  back  or  overpowered,  still 
no  author  who  wished  to  write  the  truth  could  free  himself  from  all 
anxiety  ;  he  must  yet  continually  dread  lest  the  blind  and  hoodwinked 
religious  zealots  would  be  again  let  loose  against  him  with  the  more 
violence,  in  proportion  as  they  had  been  held  in  a  kind  of  check. 
He  had  the  greater  reason  to  be  on  his  guard,  since  neither  the  force 
[of  the  opposition],  nor  those  things  which  would  serve  as  a  counter- 
poise to  it  could  be  mathematically  determined.  These  observations 
taught  him  a  certain  species  of  foresight  and  caution  so  as  not  to 
provoke  his  opponents.  This,  it  seems  to  me,  is  a  second  reason 
which  is  very  obvious  in  the  writings  of  Plato.  On  the  one  hand, 
he  felt  the  necessity  and  the  right  of  speaking  the  truth,  and  of 
clearly  exposing  the  errors  which  his  reason  pointed  out  to  him  :  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  discovered  those  dangers  which  were  insepa- 
rably connected,  and  thus  he  trod  a  middle  path,  so  that  he  could  do 
enough  to  satisfy  the  claims  of  reason,  without  wantonly  exposing 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


365 


himself  to  danger.  Among  the  means  by  which  he  sought  to  secure 
his  person  against  attempts  of  this  kind,  I  give  the  first  place  to  the 
style  of  his  writings.  All  those  things  whereby  he  would  bring 
himself  into  danger,  are  written  in  a  dialogue  form.  -  Under  this 
safeguard,  he  could  write  very  freely  and  fearlessly,  since  it  could 
not  be  regarded  as  his  own  peculiar  style  of  reasoning,  but  rather  an 
exhibition  of  the  thoughts  of  others.  Besides,  he  attacked  in  a  special 
manner  those  religious  errors  only  which  could  not  consist  with  the 
laws  of  morality,  whereby  he  made  it  appear  as  though  he  admitted 
the  popular  religious  system  as  orthodox,  and  would  suppress  only 
some  false  principles.  He  speaks  with  much  warmth  and  freedom 
on  this  point.  The  remaining  attacks  on  the  foundations  of  ihe 
popular  faith,  on  the  polytheism,  he  knew  how  to  veil  so  adroitly 
under  the  form  of  irony,  that  they  could  not  easily  occasion  him  any 
inconvenience.  Thus  ridicule  was  concealed  when  he  said  :  "  So 
far  as  relates  to  the  twelve  gods,  we  must  believe  every  thing  which 
the  poets  say  concerning  them,  be  it  ever  so  inconceivable,  since 
they  as  sons  of  those  gods  must  know  best."1  Still,  a  remark  must 
be  here  made.  In  those  dialogues  which  Plato  wrote  in  his  old  age, 
one  may  easily  see  that  there  is  more  freedom  in  the  language, 
more  spirit  and  candor  in  the  assault  upon  errors,  than  we  can  dis- 
cover in  his  earlier  writings.  This  may  be  owing  either  to  his  having 
reached  a  more  free  and  comprehensive  point  of  view,  or  because 
declining  age  had  made  him  indifferent  to  danger,  or  finally  be- 
cause he  imagined  that  the  weakness  of  his  enemies  was  greater. 

Plato  probably  observed  the  external  rites  of  religion  in  the  same 
manner  as  Socrates  and  other  wise  men  had  done,  although  his 
mode  of  thinking  on  some  points  was  very  different.  Socrates,  for 
example,  had  not  freed  himself  from  all  superstitions,  but  still  was 
strongly  in  the  faith  of  soothsaying,  dreams  and  divine  responses. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  find  no  traces  of  this  in  the  life  of  Plato, 
though  a  few  times  in  his  writings,  he  seems  to  revert  to  the  con- 
sideration of  this  subject.  When  Xenophon  was  about  to  engage  in 
the  service  of  Cyrus,  Socrates  sent  him  to  make  inquiry  of  the  oracle 
at  Delphi.  Plato,  on  the  contrary,  made  no  such  inquiry,  but 
trusted  to  his  own  judgment,  when  he  had  received  an  invitation  to 
the  court  of  Dionysius.  This  was  certainly  not  a  less  important  and 
difficult  emergency  for  him  than  the  other  was  for  Xenophon.  He 
1  Timaeus,  Vol.  IX.  324. 


366 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


believed  that  he  heard  no  divine  voice,  but  perceived  a  call  addres- 
sed merely  to  his  reason,  although  he  was  possessed  of  a  far  more 
ardent  imagination  than  Xenophon. 

Plato  was  employed  by  many  kings  and  commonwealths  as  a  phi- 
losopher and  statesman  ;  and  was  commissioned  by  several  of  them 
to  compile  systems  of  laws  ;  for  example,  by  the  inhabitants  of  Cy- 
rene,  Laodamas  (perhaps  king  of  the  Thasians),  by  the  Arcadians 
and  Thebans.1  With  Perdiccas,  king  of  the  Macedonians,  he  carri- 
ed on  a  correspondence,  and  sent  to  him  his  scholar  Euphraeus,  to 
tender  him  good  advice.2  According  to  Plutarch,  he  projected  laws 
for  the  Sicilians,  after  the  death  of  Dionysius,  and  also  for  the  Cre- 
tans for  the  use  of  their  colony  Magnesia,  which  were  said  to  have 
been  actually  adopted.  He  sent  Phormio  to  the  Eleans  and  Mene- 
demus  to  the  Pyrrhaeans3  in  order  to  give  a  settled  form  to  their  com- 
monwealths. But  so  far  as  it  respects  laws  for  the  Sicilians  and 
Cretans,  I  very  much  fear  that  Plutarch  has  fallen  into  an  error,  or 
lias  not  expressed  himself  with  sufficient  precision.  An  Introduction 
to  his  book  of  Laws,  Plato  had  actually  committed  to  writing  for  Di- 
onysius, as  we  have  before  related.  After  the  death  of  Dion,  he 
had  communicated  proposals  to  the  Sicilians,  so  that  they  might  be 
able  to  give  to  their  republic  a  fixed  constitution,  as  we  still  find  it  in 
the  Seventh  and  Eighth  Letters.  But  it  remains  equally  uncertain 
whether  his  proposals  were  accepted,  as  whether  he  composed  the 
still  extant  laws  in  accordance  with  the  desires  of  the  Cretans,  or 
from  the  impulse  of  his  own  mind. 

This  remarkable  man  died  in  the  first  year  of  the  108th  Olympiad, 
on  the  first  day  of  his  eighty-second  year.  Although  his  health  had 
suffered  considerably  by  his  many  journies,  exposures  and  labors, 
still  by  his  exemplary  temperance  and  government  of  his  passions, 
he  prolonged  his  life  to  this  good  old  age.4 

To  this  is  to  be  attributed  in  part  the  happy  circumstance  that  his 
mind  was  awake  and  active  to  the  last  moment.5  After  his  death 
there  was  found  on  a  wax  tablet  the  beginning  of  his  Republic,  in 
which  his  anxiety  to  file  and  amend  the  expression  was  manifest.6 

1  Diog.  III.  23.  jElian.  V.II.42.  XII.  30.  Epist.  XI.  Plut.  ttqos  ffltfiwa 
anaidkvrov. 

2  Epist.  5.  87.  3  Plut.  Advers.  Coloten.  1126. 

4  Seneca  Epist.  58.  5  Cic.  De  Senect.  c.  5.  Seneca  Epist.  58. 

6  Dionysius  TitQi  ovv&iotoje  edit.  Hudson.  55.  Quinct.  VIII.  6. 


LIFE  OF  PLATO. 


Hence  we  may  conclude,  that  this  composition  was  his  favorite,  if  it 
had  not  been  already  evident  from  his  pains  and  from  his  style,  that 
he  must  have  labored  upon  it  with  particular  interest.  Death  came 
upon  him  like  a  soft  sleep,  when  he  was  present  at  a  marriage  feast.1 
His  body  was  buried  in  the  Ceramicus,2  not  far  from  the  academy. 
The  Athenians  erected  for  him  in  the  same  place  a  monument 
with  an  inscription,  which  commemorated  his  services  and  the  esti- 
mation in  which  he  was  held  by  his  contemporaries.  Pausanias 
found  this  monument  still  existing  in  the  second  century.  A  statue 
was  erected  for  him  by  king  Mithridates.3 

1  Diog.  III.  2. 

2  [A  public  walk  at  Athens,  and  also  a  place  where  those  were  buried  who 
were  killed  in  defence  of  their  country. — Tr.] 

3  Diog.  lit  40.  25.  Fausan.  Lib.  I.  76.  Edit.  Kithn. 


PLATO  AND  HIS  BIOGRAPHERS. 


■ 


SKETCH  OF 


THE  BIOGRAPHERS  OF  PLATO 


The  object  of  this  sketch  is  to  combine  some  scattered  notices  il- 
lustrative of  the  preceding  Article,  which  we  had  originally  intended 
to  insert  in  the  form  of  notes.  An  exhibition  of  the  literature  of  this 
subject,  brought  down  to  the  present  time,  may  not  be  without  inter- 
est to  our  readers.  We  are  enabled  to  do  this  the  more  satisfac- 
torily from  having  in  our  possession,  through  the  courtesy  of  a  friend, 
brief  MS.  Notes  of  the  Lectures  on  Plato  which  are  delivered  at 
Berlin  by  the  eminent  professor  and  classical  scholar,  Augustus 
Boeckh. 

Diogenes  Laertius,  Apuleius,  Olympiodorus  and  Suidas  in  his 
Lexicon  have  preserved  many  particulars  of  PJato's  life.  They  had 
before  them  the  biographies  which  were  written  by  contemporaries 
of  the  philosopher.  There  is  no  reason,  therefore,  to  doubt  the  au- 
thority of  those  biographies  which  we  possess.  They  must  contain 
substantial  truth,  though  there  are  many  conflicting  statements  in 
respect  to  particular  incidents.  Among  the  early  writers  is  Speu- 
sippus,  the  nephew,  the  pupil  and  the  successor  of  Plato.  He  wrote 
an  encomium  or  eulogy  on  his  master.1  Diogenes  mentions  another 
eulogy  on  Plato  by  Clearchus,  who  was  probably  the  pupil  of  Aris- 
totle. Hermodorus  wrote  a  book  with  the  title, '  Of  Plato.'  He  was 
probably  a  contemporary  and  a  scholar  of  Plato  and  the  one  who 
made  known  his  dialogues  in  Sicily.  Aristoxenus,  the  celebrated  pu- 
pil of  Aristotle,  wrote  the  life  of  Plato  and  of  other  philosophers.  Pha- 

1  His  writings  were  purchased  by  Aristotle  for  three  tulents. 


COMMENTATORS  UPON  HIS  WRITINGS. 


AND  OF  THE 


372 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


vorinus,  who  flourished  in  the  time  of  Trajan,  also  wrote,  according  to 
the  testimony  of  Suidas,  an  account  of  Plato.  He  is  esteemed,  says 
Tennemann,  as  a  very  credible  authority.  Plutarch,  in  his  life  of 
Dion,  has  tolerably  full  notices  of  Plato's  residence  in  Sicily,  which 
agree  substantially  with  what  is  contained  in  the  Letters  that  have 
been  attributed  to  Plato.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  Plutarch 
examined  and  compared  various  writers  in  relation  to  this  sub- 
ject. 

The  earliest  biographer  of  Plato,  whose  works  are  now  extant,  is 
Apuleius.  He  wrote  a  treatise  in  Latin, 4  Concerning  the  Nativity 
of  Plato  and  the  Nature  of  his  Doctrines.1  He  has  some  statements 
which  are  not  found  elsewhere.  He  appears  to  have  made  use  of 
the  Eulogy  of  Speusippus.  In  cases  where  he  agrees  with  Diogenes, 
he  seems  to  have  drawn  from  the  same  sources.  Diogenes  Laertius, 
who  flourished  under  Alexander  Severus,  or  a  little  later,  devotes 
the  third  book  of  his  memoirs  entirely  to  Plato.  Diogenes  is  a  mere 
collector.  He  throws  his  facts  together  without  selection  or  order. 
The  authorities  are  not  always  given,  and  his  reader  is  left  in  entire 
uncertainty  in  relation  to  the  value  of  his  narrations.  Differing  state- 
ments are  brought  forward  without  any  attempt  at  examination. 
With  all  his  faults,  however,  his  work  is  of  indispensable  importance, 
on  account  of  the  many  materials  in  it  which  we  can  find  in  no  other 
book.  Olympiodorus  has  prefixed  to  his  Commentary  on  the  Alci- 
biades  of  Plato  a  short  biography.  It  however  contains  more  errors 
than  that  of  Diogenes.  It  is  inserted  in  the  Tauchnitz  edition  of 
Plato.  Prof.  Heeren  has  printed  in  the  fifth  number  of  the  Biblio- 
thek  der  alten  Litteralur  u.  Kunst,  a  life  of  Plato  by  an  anonymous 
author,  from  a  Pergamus  MS.  of  the  year  925.  It  agrees  generally 
with  Olympiodorus.  It  contains,  however,  some  notices  of  his  errors, 
and  also  a  few  facts  not  elsewhere  found. 

Many  Commentaries  on  the  Platonic  writings  are  lost.  Others 
remain  in  libraries  still  inedited,  or  edited  but  in  part.  Of  these 
may  be  mentioned  Damascius,  Dexippus,  Olympiodorus,  Proclus 
and  Theon  of  Smyrna.  Albinus,  a  contemporary  of  Galen,  wrote 
an  Introduction  to  the  Platonic  Dialogues.  We  have  a  few  frag- 
ments of  the  work  of  Atticus,  a  Platonic  of  the  age  of  Marcus  Aure- 
lius,  on  the  difference  between  t he  Platonic  and  Aristotelian  philoso- 
phy. The  commentary  of  Porphyry,  in  which  he  attempts  to  show 
the  agreement  of  the  two  systems,  is  still  extant.    We  have  a  work 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  FLATO. 


of  Proclus  on  the  Platonic  Theology  in  six  books,  and  also  the  Pla- 
tonic Dictionary  of  Timaeus  the  Younger,  a  grammarian  of  the  fourth 
century.  The  Lexicon  of  Suidas,  in  which  are  united  extracts  from 
the  older  grammarians,  scholiasts  and  lexicographers,  is  essentially 
different  from  the  glossaries,  as  it  contains  not  only  explanations  of 
words,  but  also  historical  notices,  particularly  information  in  respect 
to  the  most  celebrated  writers  with  extracts  from  their  works.  This 
author  is  so  entirely  unknown  that  doubts  have  been  expressed 
whether  such  an  individual  ever  lived.  Eustathius,  however,  cites 
him  in  a  number  of  places.  By  some  he  is  placed  in  the  tenth  cen- 
tury, by  others  in  the  eleventh,  and  by  others  still  in  the  twelfth. 
A  very  complete  collection  of  the  Scholia  on  Plato  was  made  by  Da- 
vid Ruhnken,  which  appeared  after  his  death.  They  are  partly 
grammatical,  partly  historical.  They  contain  many  proverbs,  also 
genealogies,  mythological  notices,  verses  from  lost  books,  etc.  These 
Scholia  were  printed  at  Leyden  in  1800,  and  again  by  Tauchnitz  in 
his  edition  of  Plato. 

The  predominance  of  the  Aristotelian  philosophy  in  the  schools 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  gave  way  to  the  Platonic  after  the  revival  of 
letters.  The  Florentine,  Marsiglio  Ficino,  translated,  under  the  pa- 
tronage of  Cosmo  de  Medici,  the  entire  works  of  Plato  into  Latin. 
This  translation  has  often  been  re-printed.  The  first  Greek  edition 
of  the  complete  works  of  Plato  came  from  the  Aldine  press  at 
Venice  in  1513,  in  two  volumes  folio.  The  edition  edited  by  Herbst 
and  Simon  Grynaeus,  Basil,  1534,  was  much  improved  by  a  careful 
revision,  by  the  addition  of  the  commentary  of  Proclus  on  the  Ti- 
maeus and  the  Republic,  and  by  good  indexes.  In  1578,  Henry 
Stephens  published  at  Paris  the  works  of  Plato  in  three  volumes  fo- 
lio, with  a  new  recension  of  the  text.  J.  de  Serres  (Serranus)  sup- 
plied a  new  Latin  translation  more  elegant  than  that  by  Ficino,  but 
often  incorrect.1  This  edition  was  reprinted,  the  translation  being 
improved,  in  1590,  at  Lyons,  and  again  at  Frankfort  in  1602.  The 
Bipont  edition  was  brought  out  in  1781 — 87,  in  eleven  volumes, 
with  the  text  of  Stephens  and  the  translation  of  Ficino.  Croll,  Exter, 
Embser  and  Mitscherlich  had  the  editorial  charge  of  the  edition. 
The  Dialogorum  Platonis  Argumenta  of  Tiedemann  maybe  regard- 
ed as  a  twelfth  volume  of  this  edition.    The  stereotype  edition  of 

1  Sehdll  Geschichte  der  Grjechisehen  LiiLeratur,  1.  521  cd.  lt?28. 


374 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


Tauchnitz,  Leipsic  1819,  is  printed  from  the  text  of  Stephens.  Schlei- 
ermacher  also  translates,  with  a  few  exceptions,  from  the  same.1 

Of  the  editions  issued  in  the  present  century  we  may  name  that 
of  Immanuel  Bekker,  the  well-known  philologist  at  Berlin,  1816 — 
18,  in  eight  volumes  octavo.  Two  volumes  of  commentaries  were 
added  in  1823.  The  text  is  improved  by  a  new  comparison  of 
many  MSS.  The  dialogues  are  printed  in  the  order  which  was  pro- 
posed by  Schleiermacher.  A  very  superior  edition  of  Plato  has 
just  been  completed  by  Frederic  Ast.  The  text,  with  an  entirely 
new  translation,  is  contained  in  nine  volumes.  The  remaining  vo- 
lumes include  a  critical  and  exegetical  commentary,  a  Lexicon  Pla- 
tonicum  and  indexes.  The  basis  of  the  text  is  that  of  the  first  Al- 
dine  edition.  The  external  appearance  of  the  volume  is  much  su- 
perior to  that  of  many  German  editions  of  the  classics.  Professor 
G.  Stallbaum  of  the  University  of  Leipsic,  one  of  the  greatest  of 
living  scholars  in  the  writings  of  Plato,  published  his  works  in 
1821 — 26.  He  had  the  advantage  of  an  unfinished  edition  com- 
menced by  Bast  and  Heindorf.  The  text  is  the  result  of  the  colla- 
tion of  the  Vienna,  Paris,  Florence  and  Zittau  MSS.  The  last  four 
volumes  are  furnished  with  critical  observations,  occasional  illustra- 
tion of  difficult  passages,  etc.  Another  edition  by  C.  E.  C.  Schnei- 
der is,  we  believe,  in  progress  at  Leipsic.  We  have  seen  no  notice 
of  its  completion.  It  was  to  contain  the  results  of  all  which  has 
been  hitherto  done,  in  a  critical  respect,  for  Plato.  It  was  also  to  em- 
brace a  new  recension  of  the  text  and  a  complete  critical  apparatus. 

Our  limits  will  compel  us  to  omit  all  notices  of  editions  of  single 
dialogues  or  productions  of  Plato.  In  this  service  men  no  less  dis- 
tinguished than  Wolf,  Buttmann,  Routh,  Heindorf,  Bekker,  Boeckh, 
Ast,  Dindorf,  Jacobs,  Wyttenbach,  Stallbaum,  etc.,  have  labored. 
Tennemann,  in  his  System  of  the  Platonic  Philosophy,  enumerates 
nine  distinct  treatises  or  essays  on  the  life  of  Plato,  twelve  on  sub- 
jects connected  with  his  life,  six  on  his  character  as  a  writer,  thirty 
on  Plato  as  a  philosopher,  fourteen  on  the  relation  between  Plato 
and  Aristotle,  and  forty-two  on  particular  topics  connected  with  or 
growing  out  of  his  philosophy  ;  in  all  one  hundred  and  thirteen 
This  enumeration  was  made  in  1794.  Since  that  time  the  number  has 
greatly  increased.    Indeed  Plato's  writings  are  one  of  the  most  fruit- 


i  Rixner  der  Gesdi.  tier  Pfrilos.  L  210.  ed.  1829: 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


375 


ful  topics  of  discussion  in  fruitful  Germany,  to  say  nothing  of  Italy, 
France  and  Holland. 

One  of  the  earliest  general  histories  of  philosophy  was  that  of 
Thomas  Stanley,  London,  1701.  A  fourth  edition,  translated  into 
Latin  by  G.  Olearius,  was  published  at  Lcipsic  in  1811.  The  history 
of  philosophy  most  known  in  this  country  and  in  England  is  that  of 
J.  I.  Brucker,  first  published  at  Leipsic  in  1742 — 67,  in  five  volumes 
quarto.  From  this  work  our  current  notions  respecting  Plato  are 
derived,  partly  through  the  medium  of  Dr.  Enfield's  History. 
Brucker  has  never  enjoyed,  it  has  been  said,  a  very  high  reputation 
among  the  learned  of  Germany.  Dugald  Stewart  thinks  that  this 
fact  is  rather  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  German  taste,  than  to  that 
of  the  historian.  1  Brucker  is  indeed,'  says  Stewart,  4  not  distin- 
guished by  any  extraordinary  measure  of  depth  or  of  acuteness  ; 
but  in  industry,  fidelity  and  sound  judgment,  he  has  few  superiors.'1 
At  the  time  of  writing  the  above  remarks,  1820,  Stewart  was  not 
acquainted  with  the  work  of  Tennemann.  He  had  seen  J.  G. 
Buhle's  Manual  of  the  history  of  Philosophy,  Gottingen,  1796—1804, 
eight  volumes.  In  addition  to  this  work  Buhle  published  a  History 
of  Modern  Philosophy,  Gottingen,  1800 — 6,  in  six  volumes.  Stew- 
art's opinion  of  this  author  is  unfavorable. 

William  Gottlieb  Tennemann  was  born  Dec.  7,  1761,  at  Brem- 
bach,  a  village  between  Erfurt  and  Eisenach,  where  his  father  was 
clergyman.  At  four  years  of  age  he  was  visited  by  a  long  illness  re- 
sulting from  an  attack  of  the  small-pox.  This  delayed  his  intellec- 
tual development  and  laid  the  foundation  for  many  bodily  pains. 
The  method  of  instruction  pursued  by  his  father,  a  man,  according 
to  the  son's  testimony,  of  a  gloomy  and  stern  temperament,  did  not 
hasten  the  mental  progress  of  the  youth.  In  his  sixteenth  year  he 
joined  a  school  at  Erfurt.  After  remaining  there  eighteen  months, 
he  connected  himself  with  the  university  then  existing  at  Erfurt. 
His  love  for  philosophical  studies  turned  him  aside  from  theology,  to 
which,  agreeably  to  his  father's  wishes,  he  had  devoted  himself.  In 
1781,  he  went  to  the  university  of  Jena,  where  he  was  greatly  ex- 
cited by  the  writings  of  Kant.  At  first  he  joined  the  opposition,  but 
he  soon  became  a  devoted  adherent  of  the  Critical  Philosophy.  In 
1791,  he  gave  a  connected  view  of  4  the  Doctrines  and  Opinions  of 
the  followers  of  Socrates  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul.'  This 
1  Works  of  D.  Stewart,  Camb.  ed.  VI.  487. 


376 


BIOGKAFHIES  OF  PLATO. 


was  followed  by  his  4  System  of  the  Platonic  Philosophy,'  four 
volumes,  Leipsic,  1792 — 94.    This  contains  the  life  of  the  philoso- 
pher, which  forms  the  preceding  article  in  this  volume.    Being  lim- 
ited in  his  external  means,  Tcnnemann  now  devoted  himself  rather 
to  academical  pursuits  than  to  those  of  an  author.    In  1798,  he  was 
appointed  professor  extraordinary  of  philosophy  at  Jena.    In  1804, 
he  became  ordinary  professor  in  the  philosophical  chair  at  Marburg, 
vacant  by  the  death  of  Tiedemann.    This  office — to  which  was 
added,  in  1816,  that  of  second  university  librarian — he  continued  to 
till  till  his  death,  Sept.  30,  1819.     Besides  the  writings  already 
named,  he  left  a  number  of  very  useful  essays  ;  a  translation  of 
Hume's  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Understanding,  with  Observations, 
1793 ;  of  Locke's  Essay,  three  volumes,  1795 — 7 ;  and  De  Gerando's 
Comparative  History  of  Systems  of  Philosophy,  two  volumes,  Mar- 
burg, 1806.    His  principal  reputation  rests  on  his  History  of  Philo- 
sophy, in  eleven  volumes,  Leipsic,  1798 — 1819.   An  abstract  of  this 
work,  not  fully  completed,  entitled  Grundriss  der  Geschichte  der 
Philosophic,  was  published  in  1812.    The  fifth  edition  was  edited  by 
Professor  Wendt.1    It  has  been  translated  into  English  by  Arthur 
Johnson.    Nothing  of  Tennemann's  spirit,  however,  can  be  disco- 
vered in  this  skeleton.    With  the  exception  of  Brucker,  Tennemann 
was  the  first  writer  who  exhibited  the  whole  history  of  philosophy 
from  the  sources,  in  a  philosophical  spirit,  and  so  as  to  make  it  ac- 
cessible to  the  general  mind.  He  has  the  merit  of  having  awakened 
a  manifold  interest  in  these  studies,  and  of  having  helped  many 
thinkers  to  a  proper  recognition  of  them.    The  principal  fault  which 
has  been  found  with  Tennemann  is  thus  mentioned  by  Mr.  Stewart. 
"  The  history  of  Tennemann  in  particular  (a  work  said  to  possess 
great  merit)  would  appear  to  have  been  vitiated  by  this  unfortunate 
bias  [derived  from  Kant]  in  the  views  of  its  author.    A  very  compe- 
tent judge  has  lately  said  of  it,  that 4  it  affords,  as  far  as  it  is  com- 
pleted, the  most  accurate,  the  most  minute,  and  the  most  rational 
view  we  yet  possess  of  the  different  systems  of  philosophy  ;  but  that 
the  critical  philosophy  being  chosen  as  the  vantage  ground  from 
whence  the  survey  of  former  systems  is  taken,  the  continual  refer- 
ence in  Kant's  own  language  to  his  peculiar  doctrines,  renders  it  fre- 

1  Wendt  was  born  at  Leipsic,  Sept.  29, 1783.  In  1816,  he  became  ordinary 
professor  of  philosophy  at  Leipsic.  In  1829  he  took  Boutervvck's  place  as 
ordinary  professor  of  philosophy  at  Gdttingen.    He  died  Oct.  15,  1830. 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


377 


quenlly  impossible  for  those  who  have  not  studied  the  dark  works 
of  this  modern  Heraclitus  to  understand  the  strictures  of  the  historian 
on  the  systems  even  of  Aristotle  or  Plato."1  Notwithstanding  this 
defect,  Tennemann  is  a  perspicuous  and  agreeable,  as  well  as  pro- 
found writer.  The  indiscriminate  charge  of  obscurity  and  Kantism, 
which  has  been  sometimes  alleged  against  him,  can  by  no  means 
be  supported. 

In  regard  to  the  life  of  Plato,  by  Tennemann,  which  we  have 
translated,  Schleiermacher  has  the  following  remark  :  "  Tenne- 
mann, in  his  system  of  the  Platonic  philosophy  prefixed  to  the 
life  of  Plato,  has  already  subjected  to  a  sifting  process  the  compilation 
of  Diogenes  and  the  other  old  biographies  of  Plato,  compared  with 
what  is  found  scantily  dispersed  in  other  sources.  As,  then,  since 
that  time  neither  materially  deeper  investigations  have  been  pub- 
lished, nor  new  facts  discovered,  affording  any  well-grounded  hope 
of  leaving  far  behind  them,  in  their  application,  the  labor  already 
bestowed  on  this  subject,  it  is  best  to  refer  such  readers  as  wish  to 
be  instructed  upon  that  point,  to  what  they  will  there  find."  A  high 
commendation  of  Tennemann's  labors  from  the  pen  of  Schleier- 
macher— certainly  a  most  competent  judge— we  shall  quote  in  the 
sequel. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  present  century,  Dr.  Frederic  Schleier- 
macher betook  himself  to  an  examination  of  all  known  systems  of 
morals ;  and  it  is  he  to  whom  is  mainly  owing  the  new  ardor 
for  the  study  of  Plato.  His  translation  of  the  Platonic  dialogues 
appeared  at  Berlin  in  the  years  1804 — 9.  It  was  accompanied  by  a 
general  introduction,  and  also  by  particular  introductions.2  It  was 
his  intention  to  publish  the  whole  of  the  works  of  Plato  upon 
this  plan ;  but  we  have  to  regret  the  want  of  introductions  to  the 
Timaeus,  the  Critias,  the  Laws  and  a  number  of  the  pieces  which 
are  not  regarded  as  genuine.  He  viewed  the  works  of  Plato  as  a 
whole,  and  endeavored  to  arrange  them  in  their  natural  connection  ; 
and  he  conceived  that  by  internal  evidence  he  had  found  in  them  the 
order  in  which  the  author's  thoughts  were  developed,  being  also  that 
in  which  the  several  works  were  written.  Though  details  of  his 
scheme  have  been  loosened  by  later  inquirers,  the  main  principles 
are  regarded  by  good  judges  as  finally  fixed.3 

1  Stewart's  Works,  VI.  480.  2  Translated  by  Win.  Dobson. 

3  London  Quart.  Rev.  No.  122.  p.  258. 

48 


378 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


In  his  general  introduction,  Schleiermacher,  after  remarking  upon 
the  impracticable  modes  of  arranging  Plato's  dialogues  proposed  by- 
Diogenes,  Eberhard,  Geddes  and  others,  thus  proceeds  :  "  Quite 
different,  however,  from  all  that  has  hitherto  been  done  is  the  char- 
acter of  the  attempt  made  in  Tennemann's  system  of  the  Platonic 
Philosophy ;  the  first,  at  all  events,  with  any  pretensions  to  com- 
pleteness, to  discover  the  chronological  order  of  the  Platonic  dia- 
logues from  various  historical  traces  impressed  upon  them  ;  for  this 
is  certainly  critical  in  its  principles,  and  a  work  worthy  in  every  way 
of  an  historical  investigator  like  the  author  of  that  treatise.  In  this 
undertaking,  indeed,  his  view  is  directed  less  to  discover,  by  the 
methods  he  adopts,  the  real  and  essential  relation  of  the  works  of 
Plato  to  one  another,  than  to  discover  in  general  the  dates  of  their 
composition,  in  order  to  avoid  confounding  early  and  imperfect 
attempts  with  an  exposition  of  the  philosophy  of  the  mature  and 
perfect  Plato.  And  to  that  undertaking,  generally,  the  present  is  a 
necessary  counterpart ;  and  thus,  on  the  other  hand,  that  method, 
resting  as  it  does  entirely  upon  outward  signs,  provided  it  could 
only  be  universally  applied,  and  provided  also,  it  could  definitely  assign 
to  any  Platonic  dialogue  its  place  between  any  two  others,  would 
be  the  natural  test  of  our  own  method,  which  goes  entirely  upon 
what  is  internal.  It  may  not  indeed  be  necessary  on  that  account 
that  the  results  of  the  two  should  perfectly  coincide,  for  the  reason 
that  the  external  production  of  a  work  is  subjected  to  other  external 
and  accidental  conditions  than  its  internal  development,  which 
follows  only  such  as  are  inward  and  necessary  ;  whence  slight 
deviations  might  equally  arise,  so  that  what  was  internally  in  ex- 
istence sooner  than  something  else,  does  not  appear  yet  externally 
until  a  later  period." 

Schleiermacher  divides  the  works  of  Plato  into  three  classes.  In 
the  first  class,  the  development  of  the  dialogistic  method  is  the  pre- 
dominant object ;  and  hence  manifestly  the  Phaedrus  is  the  first  and 
the  Parmenides  is  the  last  in  this  class,  partly  as  a  most  perfect  ex- 
hibition of  it,  partly  as  a  transition  to  the  second  part,  because  it 
begins  to  philosophize  upon  the  relation  of  ideas  to  actual  things. 
The  Phaedrus,  Protagoras  and  Parmenides,  have  a  character  of 
youthfulness  quite  peculiar.  They  appear  in  the  first  glitter  and 
awkwardness  of  early  youth.  They  are  not  worked  up  into  one 
whole,  with  a  definite  purpose,  and  with  much  art.    In  them  also 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


379 


are  shown  the  first  breathings  of  what  is  the  basis  of  all  that  follows, 
of  logic  as  the  instrument  of  philosophy,  of  ideas  as  its  proper  ob- 
ject, consequently  of  the  possibility  and  of  the  conditions  of  know- 
ledge. In  the  second  part,  the  explanation  of  knowledge,  and  of  the 
process  of  acquiring  knowledge,  is  the  predominant  subject.  At 
the  head  of  this  part  stands  the  Theaetetus  beyond  the  possibility  of  a 
mistake,  taking  up,  as  it  does,  this  question  by  its  first  root ;  the 
Sophistes  with  the  annexed  Politicus  is  in  the  middle,  while  the 
Phaedon  and  the  Philebus  close  it,  as  transitions  to  the  third  part ; 
the  first,  from  the  anticipatory  sketch  of  natural  philosophy,  the 
second,  because  in  its  discussion  of  the  idea  of  the  good,  it  begins  to 
approximate  to  a  totally  constructive  exposition,  and  passes  into  the 
direct  method.  This  second  part  is  distinguished  by  a  great  arti- 
ficialness,  as  well  in  the  construction  of  particular  dialogues  as  in 
their  progressive  connection,  and  which  might  be  named  for  dis- 
tinction's sake,  the  indirect  method,  since  it  commences  almost 
universally  with  the  juxta-position  of  antitheses.  Some  of  the  Pla- 
tonic dialogues  are  distinguished  above  all  the  rest  by  the  fact  that 
they  alone  contain  an  objective,  scientific  exposition,  the  Republic 
for  instance,  the  Timaeus  and  the  Critias.  Everything  coincides 
when  we  assign  to  these  the  last  place,  tradition,  as  well  as  internal 
character  though  in  different  degrees  of  the  most  advanced  ma- 
turity and  serious  old  age  ;  and  even  the  imperfect  condition  which, 
viewed  in  connection,  they  exhibit.  But  more  than  all  this,  the 
nature  of  the  thing  decides  the  question ;  inasmuch  as  these  ex- 
positions rest  upon  the  investigations  previously  pursued  ;  upon  the 
nature  of  knowledge  generally,  and  of  philosophical  knowledge  in 
particular  ;  and  upon  the  applicability  of  the  idea  of  science  to  the 
objects  treated  of  in  those  works, — man  himself,  and  nature. 

In  1816,  Prof.  Frederic  Ast  published  a  volume  entitled, 1  Plato's 
Life  and  Writings.'  Thirteen  pages  are  occupied  by  a  general 
introduction,  twenty  one  only  with  Plato's  life,  and  four  hundred  and 
eighty  on  his  writings.  The  work  is  thus  described  in  the  Halle 
Journal.  "  Ast  has  here  suggested  considerations  on  the  nature  of 
the  Platonic  philosophy,  on  the  spirit  which  shows  itself  in  the  ex- 
hibition of  Plato's  philosophical  ideas,  and  has  made  them,  in  con- 
nection with  the  analysis  of  particular  dialogues,  together  with  the 
historical  notices  of  Plato  and  of  other  authors,  the  basis  of  the 
entire  introduction.    The  work  is  particularly  characterized  by  a 


380 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


fulness  of  learning,  by  a  philosophical  spirit,  by  efforts  to  separate 
the  uncertain  and  the  merely  probable  from  that  which  is  true,  and 
to  give  to  all  these  investigations,  (which  are  particularly  distinguish- 
ed by  subjective  feeling,)  a  solid  basis.  Hence  the  work  contains 
much  that  is  peculiar  in  its  views  and  results,  and  much  that  is 
new.  If  this  latter  is  not  always  to  be  taken  as  correct,  the  produc- 
tion, notwithstanding,  is  very  interesting  and  worthy  of  the  closest 
examination."1  The  following  extract  will  show  the  spirit  of  Ast. 
"  In  Plato  more  than  in  any  other  philosopher  of  antiquity  do  we 
find  the  ideal  joined  with  the  actual,  the  mythic  with  the  dialecti- 
cal— an  inward  bond  of  science  and  philosophy  in  the  element  of 
religion — and  that,  from  which  all  the  other  peculiarities  flow,  a 
philosophical  spirit  which,  without  embodying  itself  into  a  system, 
lives  in  the  free  and  boundless  region  of  ideas.  The  peculiarity  of 
Plato's  compositions  is  this,  namely,  that  he  has  no  peculiarity ; 
Platonism  cannot  be  regarded  as  a  system  opposed  to  what  is  pe- 
culiar in  another  system ;  all  which  is  peculiar,  all  which  belongs  to 
the  temporary  condition  of  the  individuals  is  lost  and  transformed 
in  the  idea  of  philosophy.  Platonism  is  not,  therefore,  to  be  viewed 
as  a  system,  in  which  the  thinker,  Plato,  according  to  his  peculiar 
individual  manner  of  reflection,  has  expressed  his  own  views  and  in- 
quiries on  the  cause,  nature  and  final  purpose  of  things,  but  he  is 
lifted  above  what  is  finite  and  temporary  ;  he  lives  in  the  etherial 
realm  of  ideas ;  he  lives  in  the  bright  light  of  philosophy  itself. 
Hence  one  finds  in  Platonism  the  germ  of  all  systems  without  itself 
being  the  foundation  of  any ;  for  it  is  the  idea  of  philosophy,  the 
focus  of  its  particular  forms,  the  immovable  sun  of  its  planetary 
changes.  Platonism  is  idealistic,  without  being  itself  apparently 
idealism  ;  it  is  realistic,  without  being  realism."2 

Ast  classifies  the  Platonic  dialogues  in  the  three  following  series. 

1.  The  Socratic.  Those  which  have  to  do  directly  with  the  ideal  Socra- 
tes, and  in  which  the  poetic  and  dramatic  element  predominates. 
Of  this  class  are  the  Protagoras,  Phaedrus,  Gorgias  and  Phaedon. 

2.  The  dialectical,  brought  out  probably  at  Megara  after  the  death 
of  Socrates.  These  are  pervaded  by  a  dialectical  acuteness. 
Theaetetus,  Sophistes,  Politicus,  Parmenides  and  Cratylus.  3.  The 
purely  philosophical.  Philebus,  Symposium,  Republic,  Timaeus  and 


1  Halle  Allgein.  Lilt.  Zeit.  lj>17, 1.  5(J. 

2  IMaton'ri  Leben  u.  Scliriflen.  p,  ."> 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


381 


Critias.  These  are  penetrated  with  the  poetic  and  dialectical 
element. 

The  principal  deficiency  of  Ast  arises  from  his  skepticism.  4<  Of 
all  modern  learned  men,"  says  Schoell,  "  who  have  assailed  the 
Platonic  writings,  Ast  has  carried  his  skepticism  the  furthest.'" 
Boeckh  calls  him  hypercritical.  A  principal  ground  of  the  historical 
incredulity  of  Ast,  or  that  which  relates  to  the  life  of  Plato,  is  the 
disagreement  of  ancient  writers  in  their  narratives ;  for  example,  of  the 
journies  of  Plato,  and  of  his  residence  in  the  Syracusan  court.  Hence 
only  the  mere  fact  is  regarded  as  historically  certain,  everything  else 
is  fiction,  decoration  or  conjecture.  This  fate  attaches  to  all  the 
great  men  of  antiquity,  especially  to  those  who  were  most  intellectual 
in  their  life  and  labors.  In  respect  to  facts  related  of  these,  historical 
skepticism  must  be  altogether  justifiable.  This  way  of  thinking  is  not 
to  be  disregarded  ;  yet  it  will  be  pressed  too  far,  if  it  does  not  allow 
room  for  historical  probability  in  connection  with  that  which  is  certain. 
If  the  fact  be  undoubted  that  Plato  was  thrice  at  the  court  of  Syra- 
cuse, then  these  journies  must  have  had  a  reasonable  object.  Why 
may  we  not  from  the  various  narratives  in  relation  to  these  jour- 
nies hold  those  things  as  true,  which  agree  with  the  character  and 
labors  of  Plato  P1 

Joseph  Socher  on  1  the  writings  of  Plato,  Munich,  1820,'  arranges 
the  Dialogues  into  ten  groups.  The  first  group  embraces  those 
which  relate  to  the  trial  and  death  of  Socrates,  as  the  Euthyphron, 
the  Apology,  the  Phaedon,  etc. ;  the  second  includes  those  which 
directly  follow  one  another,  Theaetetus,  Sophistes,  Politicus,  the 
Republic,  etc.;  the  third,  those  which  are  directed  against  false 
wisdom,  Euthydemus,  Protagoras,  Gorgias,  etc.  This  arrangement, 
however,  seems  to  be  especially  arbitrary. 

One  of  the  eminent  Germans  who  has  given  much  attention  to 
Plato  is  Augustus  Boeckh.  He  was  born  at  Carlsruhe,  1785, 
studied  at  Halle,  and,  in  1811,  became  professor  of  classical  litera- 
ture at  Berlin.  He  is  greatly  distinguished  by  his  works  on  Pindar, 
and  by  his  Political  Economy  of  the  Athenians.  He  is  now  engaged 
in  a  great  work  under  the  patronage  of  the  Berlin  Academy,  entitled 
1  Corpus  Inscriptionum  Graecarum.'  His  smaller  writings  relate 
chiefly  to  Plato  and  to  the  Platonic  philosophers. 

From  the  brief  MS.  notes  of  Boeckh's  lectures  on  Plato,  before 

1  AUgem.  Litt.  Zeit.  1817,  1.  6$ 


382 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


mentioned,  we  will  now  make  a  few  miscellaneous  extracts. — 4  Plu- 
tarch in  his  life  of  Solon  says  that  Plato  went  to  Egypt  to  sell  oil ! 
a  joke  possibly.  Oil  was  the  chief  product  of  Athens.  Produce 
was  equivalent  to  our  letters  of  exchange.  Plato  brought  no  wisdom 
from  Egypt,  for  there  was  none  there.  Thus  the  hieroglyphics,  so 
far  as  they  are  deciphered,  teach.  The  Egyptians  were  dull  and 
steady  ;  the  very  opposite  of  the  Greeks.  In  Cyrene,  Plato  spent 
some  time.  He  was  from  childhood  inclined  to  mathematics.  Pla- 
tonic mathematics  were  speculation,  not  practical  matters  as  with 
us.  Geometrical  figures  were  an  image  of  the  ideas.  This  gave 
Plato  a  great  zeal  for  mathematics.' 

1  Had  Plato  esoteric  and  exoteric  doctrines  ?  That  he  had  both 
is  said  on  the  false,  or  at  least  doubtful  supposition  that  he  was  a  Py- 
thagorean. The  opinion  originated  in  a  love  of  the  mysterious.  The 
position  is  supported  by  no  proof,  though  in  his  seventh  letter,  it  is  said 
that  he  never  fully  explained  his  views  in  his  books.  But  the  reason  is, 
he  chose  that  way  of  dialogue,  hints,  allusions,  etc.,  as  best  fitted  to 
his  purpose.1  '  The  sophists  took  away  philosophy  by  skepticism. 
But  Socrates  restored  it  by  selecting  from  the  truths  which  were  ac- 
knowledged by  poets,  statesmen,  etc.  Plato  carried  this  to  a  higher 
degree.  By  means  of  criticism,  the  different  and  conflicting  systems 
were  sifted,  and  the  true  put  into  one  system.  Plato's  philosophy 
is  said  to  be  a  mixture  of  the  Pythagorean,  Eleatic,  Ionian,  etc. 
But  Plato  was  not  a  mere  eclectic  or  compiler,  but  his  system  had  an 
internal  bond  of  connection,  and  came  from  within  outward.  Plato 
takes  a  wide  view  of  what  was  before  seen  partially.  All  the 
tendencies,  physical,  ethical,  etc.  were  united  in  him.  It  is  an 
organized  whole.'  '  The  one  and  the  many  are  united  in  Platonism. 
This  unity  is  not  made  out,  however,  by  a  symbolic  system  of  num- 
bers, but  by  ideas.''  1  The  language  of  Plato  is,  in  the  historical 
sense,  the  new  Attic.  The  older  Attic,  as  that  of  Thucydides,  was 
rougher  and  stronger.  The  new  Attic  was  more  soft,  delicate  and 
beautiful.  Plato  had  no  single  form,  but  united  all  forms.  He 
joined  the  prosaic  and  the  poetic  manner.  This  results  not  merely 
from  his  genius.  Plato  was  very  pains-taking  in  writing,  like 
Addison.  Style  was  a  study.  Every  subject  had  its  own  manner, 
partly  because  he  entered  into  it,  and  partly  because  he  made  it  a 
special  object.  At  first,  in  accordance  with  his  youthful  studies,  he 
was  more  poetic,  as  in  the  Phaedrus.'    4  Again,  Plato  was  highly 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


383 


mimical.  Tin's  tendency  was  probably  cherished  by  Sophron. 
Whether  he  was  influenced  by  Aristophanes  is  doubtful.''  4  In  the 
earlier  literature,  the  dialogue  had  three  elements,  besides  poetry. 
First,  it  was  a  description  of  moral  action,  copied  exactly  from  com- 
mon life,  as  was  the  case  with  Sophron's  mimics,  where  nature  is 
free.  This  is  not  rejected  by  Plato.  Secondly,  the  Eleatic  form 
was  the  direct  opposite.  Here  there  are  no  mimics,  and  no  real 
persons.  One  man  acts  two  parts,  asking  questions,  and  then 
answering  them.  It  was  more  dialectic  than  dialogistic.  This  Plato 
used  in  part,  as  in  the  Parmenides.  Thirdly,  the  Socratic.  This  is 
a  natural,  simple  dialogue,  designed  to  teach  all  kinds  of  men,  so 
that  all  could  understand.'  '  The  whole  principle  of  dialogue  is 
this.  In  writing,  it  is  impossible  to  say  exactly  what  one  wishes — 
to  exhibit  every  thing  so  clearly  as  not  to  be  misunderstood.  A  dis- 
cussion is  more  like  a  conversation,  so  that  the  reader  will  be  as  if 
he  were  hearing  a  conversation.  Plato  wished  that  the  reader 
should  be  himself  active  in  the  discussion.  Men  commonly  think  that 
Plato  had  no  definite  system,  but  spoke  differently  on  different  occa- 
sions. Schleiermacher  has,  however,  shown,  that  when  Plato  was 
giving  his  own  opinions,  which  seem  to  disagree,  it  was  merely  be- 
cause he  took  different  views  of  the  same  subject,  which  in  form,  not 
in  fact,  are  contrary  to  one  another.' 

We  will  now  advert  to  Dr.  Henry  Ritter's  History  of  Philosophy. 
When  he  commenced  his  publication  he  was  professor  extraordinary 
of  philosophy  in  Berlin.  He  is  now  ordinary  professor  in  the  same 
department  at  the  university  of  Kiel.  He  is  not  a  relative,  we  be- 
lieve, of  the  distinguished  geographer,  Dr.  Charles  Ritter  of  Berlin. 
The  first  volume  of  his  History  of  Philosophy  was  published  in 
1829.  It  contains  a  general  introduction,  and  six  books  on  the 
Oriental,  Chinese  and  Indian  systems  of  philosophy,  and  on  the 
Greek  philosophy  anterior  to  the  age  of  Socrates.  The  second 
volume,  1830,  includes  one  book  on  Socrates  and  the  Socratic 
school,  and  one  book  on  Plato  and  the  old  Academy.  Volume 
third,  1831,  contains  two  books,  one  on  Aristotle  and  the  Peripatetics, 
one  on  the  Skeptics  and  Epicurus,  and  one  on  the  Stoics.  The 
fourth  volume,  1834,  in  two  books,  describes  the  decline  of  the  old 
systems,  the  new  developments  of  the  Greek  philosophy  among  the 
Romans  and  Orientals,  and  the  rise  of  New  Platonism.  A 
second  edition  of  the  first  two  volumes  has  lately  appeared.  Dr. 


384 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


Ritter  has  guarded  against  the  fault  of  Tennemann,1  and  states  the 
doctrine  of  the  ancients,  as  much  as  possible,  in  their  own  words  and 
forms  of  expression.  About  350  pages  of  the  second  volume  of 
Hitler  arc  devoted  to  Plato  and  his  doctrines.  The  life  is  despatched 
in  a  few  pages.  Ritter  is  less  skeptical  than  Ast,  while  he  is  more 
disposed  to  doubt  than  Tennemann.  He  considers  that  the  grounds 
on  which  Socher,  Ast  and  others  reject  a  number  of  the  dialogues 
of  Plato  are  insufficient.  He  coincides  with  the  general  arrange- 
ment of  Schleiermacher.  His  remarks  on  the  writings  of  Plato  are 
arranged  under  the  three  heads  of  Dialectics,  Physics  and  Ethics. 
One  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  pupils  of  Plato  in  the  old  Academy, 
Speusippus,  Xenocrates,  Polemon,  etc.  We  may  add  that  the  first 
two  volumes  of  the  second  edition  of  Ritter  have  been  translated 
into  English  by  Mr.  A.  J.  W.  Morrison.  Ritter  is  much  less  inclined 
to  extravagance  than  some  of  the  writers  on  philosophy. 

The  works  of  Plato,  it  is  well  known,  are  in  the  process  of  trans- 
lation into  French  by  Victor  Cousin.  Eleven  volumes  have  appear- 
ed. The  translator  is  now  diligently  engaged  in  completing  his  un- 
dertaking. These  translations  are  welcomed  with  much  interest  in 
Germany,2  as  fitted  to  extend  in  a  popular  form  what  the  German 
philosophers  have  been  long  laboring  to  effect,  in  their  too  often 
scholastic  and  unintelligible  style.  Cousin  prefaces  each  dialogue 
with  a  dissertation.  His  general  view  of  Plato  he  has  reserved  for 
the  conclusion  of  his  work.  The  translation  is  clear  and  flowing. 
The  French  language,  however,  is  ill  fitted  to  express  the  subtle 
conceptions  of  the  Grecian. 

In  the  mean  time  a  zealous  Platonist  has  arisen  in  Holland,  in 
Professor  Van  Heusde  of  the  university  of  Utrecht.  In  the  years 
1827 — 31,  he  published  in  two  volumes, '  Initia  Philosophiae  Plato- 
nicae.'  This  work  is  written  in  good  Latin,  and  contains  a  review 
of  the  spirit  and  composition  of  Plato's  works,  rather  than  a  dry 
analysis  of  his  philosophy.    It  shows  Plato's  own  character,  and  his 

1  Putter  speaks,  however,  in  the  highest  terms  of  this  writer.  "  No  impar- 
tial person  can  deny  the  great  service  which  Tennemann  has  rendered  to 
the  history  of  philosophy  in  the  investigation  of  facts,  from  the  limited  point 
of  view  from  which  he  has  examined  the  systems."    Introduction,  1.  34. 

2  See  the  remarks  of  Schelling  translated  in  Mr.  Ripley's  Specimens  of 
Foreign  Literature,  1.20 J  ;.  also  Rixner  d.  Geschich.  d.  Phil.  I.  202. 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


385 


views  of  what  human  life  ought  to  be.  It  contains  extracts  made 
with  taste  and  judgment  from  the  more  picturesque  dialogues.  '  The 
work,'  says  the  London  Quarterly  Review,  1  is  not  unlike  Lowth's 
Lectures  on  Hebrew  Poetry.1  In  1834 — 5,  Van  Heusde  published 
in  the  Dutch  language, 4  The  Socratic  School,  or  Philosophy  for  the 
19th  Century,  in  three  parts.'  This  production  is  reviewed  by  Ull- 
mann  in  the  Theological  Studies  and  Criticisms  for  1837.  It  is  not 
so  much  an  exhibition  of  the  mode  of  thinking  of  Socrates  and  Pla- 
to, as  it  is  a  presentation  of  the  wisdom  and  practical  observations  of 
those  great  men,  with  special  reference  to  life  and  to  our  times.  The 
author  has  kept  prominently  in  mind  the  relation  of  the  Socratic 
philosophy  to  the  christian  religion.  The  first  part  contains  remarks 
on  the  Beautiful  and  on  the  corresponding  abilities  and  powers  of 
man,  on  the  fine  arts,  music,  poetry,  etc. ;  on  truth  and  the  means 
of  acquiring  knowledge ;  on  the  sciences,  their  principles  and  na- 
ture, and  their  application  in  particular  departments  ;  on  the  relation 
of  art  and  science,  and  the  bearing  of  both  on  the  education  of  man. 
The  second  part  relates  to  the  so-called  moral  and  positive  sciences, 
jurisprudence,  theology,  etc.,  but  more  particularly  to  ethics,  philoso- 
phy and  history,  and  develops  their  nature  and  principles.  The 
third  part  goes  over  into  the  metaphysical  region,  and  handles  at 
length  the  relations  of  philosophical  knowledge  to  the  ancient  world, 
lo  religion  and  to  Christianity.  Here  the  author  takes  special  pains, 
for  the  benefit  of  younger  theologians,  to  point  out  the  best  way  in 
which  study  can  be  pursued.  He  inquires  how  far  the  ancients  went 
in  the  knowledge  of  religious  truth,  and  in  what  points  they  were  at 
variance  with  the  higher  revelations  of  Christianity. 

In  1835,  Dr.  Charles  Ackermann,  archdeacon  at  Jena,  published 
a  book  of  370  pages,  entitled  the  '  Christian  in  Plato  and  the  Plato- 
nic Philosophy.'  This  is  reviewed  in  a  very  able  manner,  in  the 
ninth  volume  of  the  Stud.  u.  Krit.  by  Dr.  C.  J.  Nitzsch,  and  Dr. 
Henry  Ritter.  "  In  Ackermann's  work,"  says  Nitzsch,  "  we  have 
the  fruits  of  rich  and  persevering  study,  a  living  acquaintance  with 
the  objects  compared  and  of  their  relations,  and  an  inward,  spiritual 
love  for  them.  The  author  makes  the  things  themselves  speak  ;  he 
possesses,  in  an  extraordinary  degree,  the  gift  of  causing  them  to 
speak.  Aside  from  the  clearness  and  the  definiteness  of  his  prin- 
ciples, we  cannot  class  him  with  any  particular  school,  although  he 
has  brought  himself  into  vital  connection  with  all  existing  philoso- 
49 


386 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF  PLATO. 


phy."  A  principal  thought  in  the  treatise  is,  that  1  Plato  designed 
happiness  for  man,  but  still  did  not  produce  it.'  The  author  then 
proceeds  to  point  out  the  difference  between  Platonism  and  Chris- 
tianity. The  former  wants  the  person  and  the  deed,  the  life  and 
sufferings  of  the  Redeemer.  Sin  is  rather  a  mistake  than  sin. 
Platonism  knows  nothing  of  the  humbleness  and  the  child-like  re- 
verence which  Christianity  awakens.  It  does  not  lead  to  a  holy, 
personal,  living  God. 

In  1837,  Professor  Baur  of  Tubingen  published  an  essay  with  a  title 
similar  to  that  of  Ackermann.  We  translate  the  following  from  the 
preface  :  "  An  Essay  by  Ackermann  under  the  title  of  the  '  Christ- 
liche  des  Platonismus,  the  relation  between  Platonism  and  Chris- 
tianity, has  unquestionably  given  to  this  particular  object  of  inquiry 
a  certain  degree  of  interest  for  the  time  being.  On  this  account,  a 
new  treatise,  under  the  same  designation,  cannot  appear  strange. 
Ackermann,  however,  has  not  included  in  his  inquiry  the  important 
bearing  which  the  person  of  Socrates  must  have  both  on  Platonism, 
and  especially  on  the  question  what  are  the  traces  of  Christianity  in 
Platonism,  or  what  is  the  relation  of  Socrates  to  Christ,  though  such 
a  consideration  is  urgently  demanded  by  the  religious  and  theologi- 
cal aspects  of  the  times.  Here  lies  the  demand  to  present  the 
question  lately  raised  by  Ackermann  in  that  definite,  religious,  and 
philosophical  shape  as  will  include  the  view  of  the  subject  to  which 
I  have  referred,  along  with  other  matters  of  moment  connected  with 
the  inquiry.  As  the  external  occasion  of  the  appearance  of  this 
volume  lies  in  the  interest  which  the  very  useful  treatise  of  Acker- 
mann has  awakened  in  me  and  in  others,  I  may  be  permitted  to 
repeat  in  relation  to  Platonism,  and  particularly  to  that  view  of  it 
here  presented,  what  I  have  brought  forward  in  connection  with  it  in 
some  of  my  writings  published  in  the  last  few  years,  in  order  to 
present  more  prominently  the  relation  cf  Platonism  to  Chris- 
tianity, and  to  the  development  of  the  christian  doctrines.  I  refer 
particularly  to  the  results  of  my  investigations  on  the  Christian 
Gnosis."  Among  the  subjects  which  this  writer  takes  up  are — the 
principles  of  self-reflection  in  Platonism,  the  Platonic  State  and  the 
Christian  Church,  the  Platonic  Ideas  and  the  Christian  Logos, 
the  Preexistence  and  the  Fall  of  the  Soul,  the  Platonic  Love  and  the 
Christian  Faith,  God  and  his  relation  to  the  world,  the  Relationship 
of  Platonism  and  Christianity  in  respect  to  the  importance  which 
Plato  attributes  to  the  person  of  Socrates,  etc. 


THE  SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS 

BY 

DR.  C.  ULLMANN. 


LITERATURE  OF  THE  SUBJECT 


[t  is  well  known,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  sinlessness  of  Jesus  has  been 
repeatedly  discussed  already.  Every  theological  system  must  take  notice 
of  the  doctrine  ;  and  it  has  also  given  occasion  to  numerous  particular  trea- 
tises. For  the  sake  of  presenting  a  view  of  the  literature  of  the  subject,  1 
would  cite  the  following  works,  some  of  which,  I  regret  to  say,  I  have  had 
no  opportunity  to  examine.  The  passages  in  the  Christian  Fathers,  which 
treat  of  this  subject,  are  cited  very  fully  by  Suicer,  in  Thes.  Eccl.  1.  pp.  287 
— 289,  under  the  words  dvafiaQT7]aia}  dvctfid()T7]Tog.  In  the  middle  ages,  the 
controversy  respecting  the  immaculate  conception  of  the  virgin  was  design- 
ed, principally,  to  affect  the  question  of  the  sinlessness  of  Jesus.  Among  the 
schoolmen,  Duns  Scotus  maintained  the  possibility  of  Christ's  sinning  (hu- 
manara  naturam  Jesu  non  fuisse  dva/ud^r^rov) ,  and  he  was  attacked  on  that 
ground.  By  modern,  particularly  Protestant  theologians,  the  doctrine  has 
been  discussed  with  greater  circumspection.  Among  the  older  theological 
systems  of  our  church  are  especially  to  be  cited,  Buddeus's  Compend.  Theol. 
Dogm.  p.  497;  Gerhard's  Loci  Theol.  III.  373,  and  Cotta  s  Observations  ap- 
pended. Still  more  may  be  found  in  Baumgarten's  Untersuchung  Theolo- 
gischer  Streitigkeiten,  II.  pp.  449,  529  seq.,  and  in  Bretschneider's  System- 
at.  Entwickelung,  p.  562.  Among  the  more  modern  systematical  works, 
which  briefly  treat  of  the  doctrine,  are  particularly  to  be  mentioned,  Doeder- 
lein's  lnstitut.  II.  p.  206  seq.  ;  Zachariae's  Biblische  Theologie,  III.  pp. 
38 — 46  ;  Reinhard's  Dogmat.  II.  §  135  and  138  ;  Wegscheider's  lnstitut.  § 
122,  pp.  390,  391  ;  Daub's  Judas  Iscarioth,  I.  pp.  55,  64,  73,  and  in  many 
other  passages ;  Knapp's  Vorlesungen,  II.  §  93.  p.  151  ;  Schleiermacher's 
Christ.  Glaub.  II.  pp.221,  222,  and  in  many  other  places  ;  De  Wette's 
Christl.  Sittenlehre,  1.  pp.  173 — 193.  Separate  treatises  on  the  subject  are, 
Walther's  Diss.  Theol.  de  Christi  Hominis  3 ' AvatictQzrjoiq,  Viteb.  1690 ; 
Ejusdem  Diss,  de  Dissimilitud.  Ortus  nostri  et  Christi  Horn.,  in  his  Diss. 
Theol.  accedd.  ed.  Hoffman,  pp.  207 — 244  ;  Baumgarten's  Diss,  de  *Ava.- 
juctQT-qGia  Christi  ejusque  Necessitate,  Hal.  1753 ;  Erbstein's  Gedanken 
iiber  die  Frage,  ob  der  Erloser  sundigen  konnte  ?  Meissen,  1787  ;  Ueber  die 
Anamartesie  Jesu,  in  Grimm's  und  Musel's  Stromata,  St.  2.  S.  113  ;  We- 
ber's Progr.  Virtutis  Jesu  Integritatem  nequeex  ipsius  Professionibus  neque 
ex  Actionibus  doceri  posse,  Viteb.  1796. — Detached  passages  will  be  occa- 
sionally quoted  from  other  writings. 


AN  APOLOGETIC  VIEW 

of  Tiir. 

SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 

[The  following  Treatise,  iiber  die  Unslindlichkeit  Jesu,  is  the  first 
article  in  the  first  number  of  the  Theol.  Studien  und  Kritiken  ;  a  pe- 
riodical established  in  1828,  and  edited  by  Professors  Charles  Ull- 
mann,  and  F.  W.  C.  Umbreit,  of  Heidelberg.  The  treatise  has 
exerted  a  visible  and  salutary  influence  in  Germany.  In  1836  three 
editions  of  it  had  been  called  for  by  the  public.  The  translator  has 
taken  the  liberty  to  divide  it  into  sections,  as  it  was  not  divided  by 
the  author.  An  incidental  design  in  translating  the  article  has  been 
to  show  the  state  of  theological  discussion  in  Germany,  and  the  wants 
which  evangelical  Christians  there  are  compelled  to  meet.  The 
reader  will  find  in  it  a  dignity  and  dispassionateness,  a  freedom  from 
forced  constructions  and  personal  censures,  which  it  were  well  for 
our  controversial  writers  to  imitate.  The  main  design,  however,  of 
the  translation  has  been,  to  exhibit  the  connected  proof  of  a  proposi- 
tion that  is  generally  taken  for  granted  ;  and  thus  to  render  our  faith 
in  that  proposition  more  rational,  and  by  consequence  more  anima- 
ting and  stable.  The  Saviour  is  more  honored  by  one  who  worships 
him,  with  a  clear  view  of  the  reasons  for  such  worship,  than  by  one  who 
yields  to  mere  authority  and  blind  impulse.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to 
suppose  that  argument  is  always  useless,  where  the  conclusion  will 
be  admitted  without  argument.  The  consecutive  proof  fastens  the 
attention  upon  the  principles  to  be  proved  ;  and  by  holding  them  up 
before  the  mind,  secures  their  appropriate  moral  influence.  Some 
American  preachers,  it  is  to  be  feared,  are  prone  to  urge  upon  the  con- 
science the  obligation  to  a  particular  feeling,  without  presenting  to 


390 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


the  intellect  such  ideas  as  are  requisite  for  the  exercise  of  that  feel- 
ing. They  are  too  apt,  it  may  be,  to  forget  that  an  affection  is  not 
elicited  by  mere  command  or  exhortation,  but  rather,  in  union  with 
these,  by  the  development  of  the  appropriate  object  of  affection. 
The  spotless  character  of  the  Saviour  is  so  presented  in  this  trea- 
tise, as  to  exhibit  winning  reasons  for  our  confidence  in  him,  and  to 
show  the  intimate  union  between  the  doctrine  and  the  life  ;  between 
purity  of  purpose  and  unexceptionable  conduct. 

The  author  of  the  treatise  is  Dr.  C.  Ullmann,  one  of  the  editors  of 
the  Stud,  und  Krit.  He  has  been  favorably  known,  since  1821,  as 
an  author,  and  enjoys  a  very  high  reputation  as  a  lecturer.  Some 
of  his  writings,  particularly  in  the  department  of  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory, have  attracted  great  attention.  In  1829  he  was  called  from  the 
University  of  Heidelberg  to  that  of  Halle,  but  has  recently  been  call- 
ed back  to  Heidelberg,  where  he  is  again  associated  with  Umbreit  in 
literary  labors.  He  is  between  forty-five  and  fifty  years  of  age.  He  is 
said  to  be  a  particular  friend  of  both  Tholuck  and  Gesenius. — Tr.] 


SECTION  I. 

Introduction. — Comparison  between  the  external  and  internal  evidence  in 
favor  of  the  christian  religion. — Reasons  for  confining  ourselves,  in  this 
treatise,  to  the  internal  evidence. — Importance  of  proving  the  sinlessness 
of  Jesus. — Plan  of  the  treatise. 

In  modern  times  it  has  become  more  and  more  obvious,  how  in- 
calculably important  for  the  proof  of  historical  Christianity,  is  a  clear 
and  positive  knowledge  of  the  inward  religious  character  of  its 
Founder.  The  sum  of  the  spiritual  life  of  Jesus  is  the  central  point 
of  the  whole  christian  system.  From  this  all  rays  of  light,  and  all 
operations  of  moral  power  proceed ;  and  to  it  all  must  be  traced 
back,  so  long  as  Christianity  shall  have,  on  the  one  hand,  a  sure  his- 
torical basis,  and  on  the  other,  an  inward  moral  excellence.  The 
apostles,  indeed,  do  not  represent  the  superior  purity  of  Christ's  reli- 
gious character  and  the  superior  elevation  of  his  whole  soul,  as  the 
only  reason  why  he  appeared  to  them  so  peculiarly  entitled  to  ado- 
ration.   They  formed  their  conception  of  him,  (as  they  might  do 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


39  J 


with  good  reason  and  certainly  without  unfair  accommodation),  by 
viewing  his  character  more  historically.  They  were  convinced  of 
his  Messiahship,  not  only  by  the  loftiness  and  divinity  of  his  whole 
spiritual  appearance,  but  especially  by  the  miracles  that  were  wrought 
by  him  and  upon  him,  and  by  the  agreement  of  his  acts  and  destin- 
ation with  the  prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament.  Still  from  every- 
thing which  they  have  left  us,  it  is  very  evident  that  they  had  an  ad- 
ditional reason  for  believing  in  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus.  This  rea- 
son was,  that  his  words  were  those  of  eternal  life,  and  his  acts  were 
a  spiritual  exhibition  of  something  truly  divine.  The  apostles  would 
not  have  acknowledged  him  to  be  the  Saviour,  had  he  not  stood  before 
their  minds  in  all  the  fulness  of  spiritual  dignity.  Without  the  un- 
weakened  influence  of  his  inward  character  upon  their  moral  and 
religious  consciousness,  they  could  not  be  firmly  convinced  that  he 
was  a  pure  image  of  the  invisible  God  by  the  most  astonishing  per- 
fection of  his  power.  It  was  only  because  he  approved  himself  to 
them  as  a  living  representation  of  the  divine  love,  truth  and  rectitude, 
that  they  were  able  to  discover  in  the  extraordinary  effects  which  he 
produced,  evidences  of  a  peculiar  connection  with  the  Deity. 

The  nature  of  the  case  and  the  necessities  of  their  contemporaries 
fully  justified  the  apostles,  in  proving  the  divine  mission  and  the  Mes- 
siahship of  Jesus  by  the  argument  from  miracles  and  prophecy. 
But  the  necessity  of  the  times  and  of  individuals  may  in  this  respect 
vary,  and  although  the  gospel  in  its  essence  remains  the  same,  and 
contains  eternal,  unchangeable  truth,  yet  in  a  different  age,  a  differ- 
ent method  of  proof  may  lead  more  immediately  to  the  acknowledge- 
ment of  this  truth.  In  our  own  time,  it  seems  proper  to  fix  our  eyes 
especially  upon  the  spiritual  character  of  Jesus,  in  order  to  obtain 
satisfactory  proof  of  the  divinity  of  his  mission  and  instructions  ;  not 
because  the  apostolical  mode  of  proof  has  become  untenable,  but 
because  this  other  mode  has  a  more  vital  efficacy  on  account  of  the 
style  of  education  prevalent  at  the  present  day.  We  do  not  find 
ourselves  in  immediate,  conscious  connection  with  the  spirit  and  pro- 
phecies of  the  Old  Testament,  as  the  Jews  were  in  the  time  of  the 
apostles  ;  we  live  among  contemporaries  to  whom  miracles  are  more 
a  ground  of  doubt  than  of  faith  ;  we  should  not  forget,  that  the  proof 
from  miracles  exerts  its  full  power,  properly  speaking,  on  none  but 
the  eye-witnesses  of  them,  and  conducts  us  to  the  desired  conclusion 


392 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


only  by  a  circuitous  path.1  On  the  other  hand,  a  vivid  apprehen- 
sion of  the  inward  character  of  Jesus  brings  us  nearer  to  the  opera- 
tive centre  of  Christianity,  and  at  the  same  time  makes  us  feel  the 
influence  of  the  moral  power,  which  goes  forth  from  that  centre. 
Here,  faith  in  Jesus  rests  immediately  on  himself ;  it  is  free,  spiritual 
confidence  in  his  person.  As  with  his  contemporaries  everything 
depended  on  the  yielding  confidence  with  which  they  received  the 
favors  which  he  brought  them  ;  so  likewise  with  us  this  confidence 
may  be  the  element  of  a  full  belief  in  Christianity,  and  is,  at  all 
events,  a  condition  of  receiving  benefit  from  our  Redeemer. 

While,  in  what  follows,  we  intend  to  enlarge  upon  this  mode  of 
proving  the  divinity  of  the  christian  religion,  it  is  by  no  means  our 
design  to  represent  this  mode  as  the  only  right  one,  and  to  reject 
every  mode  that  differs  from  it.  It  always  tends  to  retard  the  dis- 
semination of  religious  and  moral  truths,  to  make  any  one  argument 
for  them  exclusively  valid,  and  thus  to  forget,  that  in  this  case  very 
much  depends  upon  each  individual's  mental  peculiarities  and  de- 
gree of  education.  The  same  God,  whose  will  it  plainly  was  that 
there  should  be  an  immeasurably  rich  variety,  as  of  natural  produc- 
tions, so  also  of  minds,  has  opened,  for  the  various  intellectual  or- 
ganizations, various  ways  of  arriving  at  the  one  truth  which  Christ 
came  to  disclose.  But  in  whatever  way  we  are  led  to  the  acknow- 
ledgement of  the  christian  system,  this  system  is  of  such  a  nature, 
that  it  makes  itself  entirely  master  of  the  mind  which  it  has  seized  ; 
and  from  whatever  point  we  step  out  into  the  great  and  well  closed 
circle  of  christian  truth,  we  shall  always  see,  as  we  follow  on  with 
connected  thought  and  feeling,  that  we  are  surrounded  by  the  whole 
circle. 

It  is  evident,  that  the  inward  character  of  Jesus  can  lay  the  foun- 
dation for  such  a  pious  faith  in  him,  as  shall  cause  everything  that 
comes  from  him,  to  appear  holy  and  true  simply  because  it  comes 
from  him,  (though  it  may  also  be  proved  true  from  internal  reasons), 
— it  can  lay  this  foundation,  only  so  far  as  we  have  the  assurance, 
that  his  spiritual  nature  was  in  every  respect  faultless,  that  his  de- 
sires and  feelings  were  free  from  every  breath  of  sin,  his  thoughts 
from  every  momentary  lapse  into  error.  If  Jesus  is  holy  in  feeling, 
without  a  stain ;  correct  in  judgment  without  any  mixture  of  mis- 

1  See  Note  A,  at  the  close  ut'this  Treatise. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS.  393 


take  ;  if  there  are  realized  in  his  person  those  combined,  purest 
ideals  of  holiness  and  truth,  which  in  the  view  of  all  other  men 
seem  too  lofty  to  be  attained  ;  then  is  he,  by  this  very  circumstance, 
raised  above  the  common  lot  of  mortals,  for  they  without  excep- 
tion are  subject  to  sin  and  error  ;  then  arc  we  morally  and  religious- 
ly bound  to  revere  his  decisions  as  words  of  the  highest  truth ;  and 
there  cannot  be  imagined  a  nobler  endeavor,  than  to  assimilate  our- 
selves to  the  unsoiled  image  by  which  his  life  is  represented,  to  cast 
our  own  moral  natures  into  the  mould  of  his.    But  if  the  contrary  be 
supposed,  if  he  were  not  only  susceptible  of  sin  and  error,  but  also 
subject,  even  incidentally,  to  the  one  as  well  as  to  the  other,  then  the 
case  stands  differently  with  Jesus  and  our  relation  to  him.    Then  he 
ceases  to  be  to  us  what  he  was  to  the  apostles  and  all  the  faithful, 
the  image  of  Deity,  the  purest  pattern  of  consummate  virtue,  the 
perfect  representation  of  eternal  truth  in  the  speech  and  life  of  man, 
the  King  in  the  invisible  realm  of  truth.    Then  does  he  no  longer 
stand  out  alone  in  the  world's  history,  but  steps  down  from  that  rela- 
tive elevation,  upon  which,  to  the  eye  of  christian  faith,  he  seemed 
to  stand,  and  mingles  with  the  company  of  the  wise  and  noble  of  our 
race,  as  a  great  and  superior  man  indeed,  but  yet  as  one  of  their 
fellows,  who  as  well  as  they  is  obliged  to  pay  the  tax  of  human  in- 
firmity and  narrowness.    He  is  a  great  truth-seeker  and  truth-finder, 
but  not  the  Truth.    He  is  a  good  and  great  man,  perhaps  the  best, 
but  not  the  Holy  One  of  God.    His  life  and  his  instructions  are  no 
longer  the  unimprovable  standard  of  the  good  and  the  true  ;  but  are 
subject, — who  can  tell  how  far  ? — to  improvement  and  correction. 
His  example  and  his  words  have  no  longer  an  authority  absolutely 
binding.    The  system  of  historical  Christianity  which  is  founded  on 
his  character  becomes  brittle  in  its  ground-work,  and  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal community,  which  is  built  upon  that  system,  must  either  be  dis- 
solved, or  must  become  in  its  inmost  character  something  different 
from  what  it  was  originally,  and  from  what  it  has  been  until  the  pre- 
sent time.    Yea,  Christ  ceases  to  be  the  Redeemer  ;  for,  if  he  him- 
self is  subject  to  sin,  how  can  he  make  others  free  from  the  power 
of  the  same  ?    How  can  he  obtain  that  commodious  solid  standing 
place,  outside  of  a  sinning  world,  by  which  he  will  be  able  to  raise 
up,  as  it  were,  the  world  from  its  worn  out  poles  ?   How  can  he  be- 
come the  Creator  and  the  Fountain  of  a  new,  pure,  sanctified  life  ? 
If  then,  as  error  always  enters  the  mind  in  conjunction  with  sin,  Je- 

50 


394 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


sus  were  also  not  free  from  error,  how  could  he  redeem  mankind 
from  it  ?  And  in  what  inconsistencies  do  we  find  ourselves  entan- 
gled, when  we  compare  with  such  suppositions  all  those  lofty  re- 
marks of  Jesus,  in  which  he  represents  himself  as  the  Truth  which 
only  can  make  men  free  ! 

Thus  important  in  all  respects,  is  the  certainty  that  Christ  was 
elevated  above  all  sin  and  error.  This  is  a  foundation-rock  of  his- 
torical Christianity  ;  and  especially  in  our  own  day,  the  trouble  of 
examining  thoroughly  the  firmness  of  this  foundation  will  be  certain- 
ly repaid.  In  the  ensuing  remarks,  I  would  contribute  somewhat  to 
establish  this  fundamental  principle ;  and  shall  consider,  first  and 
principally  in  its  historical  aspect,  the  position  that  Jesus  was  sinless 
and  holy  in  his  character,  and  shall  then  attend  to  the  consequences 
which  result  from  this  principle  in  favor  of  the  truth  and  divinity  of 
the  Saviour's  instructions. 


SECTION  II. 


Definition  of  sin  and  sinless. — Natural  power  of  Christ  to  sin. — Fearful  con- 
sequences which  would  result  from  his  sinning. — Certainty  that  he  would 
not  sin. — Principles  and  mode  of  reasoning  in  this  treatise. 

If,  in  the  ensuing  treatise,  we  take  as  a  basis  that  definition  of  sin 
which  is  both  truly  biblical  and  also  generally  recognized  in  the  the- 
ological dialect,1  and  if,  accordingly,  we  define  sin  to  be  the  devia- 
tion of  a  free  nature  from  the  moral  law  of  God  ;  the  disagreement  of 
the  moral  life,  that  is,  the  intentions,  the  general  aim  of  the  will,  or 
a  single  act  of  the  will,  and  the  outward  deeds,  with  the  divine  law  ; 
we  must  then  assign  for  the  first  meaning  of  the  word  sinlessness, 
nothing  more  than  the  absence  of  such  a  disagreement,  the  non-ex- 
istence of  a  contradiction  between  the  individual  free  will  and  the 
will  of  God,  which  latter  includes  the  universal  law.  .  But  we  can- 
not stop  with  this  mere  negative  definition  of  innocency.  As  sinless- 
ness is  an  idea  applicable  only  to  beings,  who  are  so  constituted  that 
they  must  act  morally,  and  who  cannot  even  omit  moral  action 
without  violating  law  in  the  very  omission,  the  idea  must  necessarily 

1  For  Bretschneider's  definitions  of  sin,  see  Note  B,  at  the  close  of  this 
Treatise. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


395 


refer  to  something  positive,  to  the  performance  of  something  good. 
As  he  who  is  to  be  sinless,  cannot  be  so  without  willing  and  doing 
something,  neither  can  he  be  so  without  willing  and  doing  what  is 
perfectly  good.  Innocence  always  involves  a  positive  agreement 
with  the  divine  will.  A  free  and  rational  nature,  which  is  without 
sin,  is  also  necessarily  holy  ;  and  when  we  describe  Jesus  as  sinless, 
we  are  not  to  separate  from  him  pure  goodness  and  holiness,  but  we 
characterize  him  as  both  destitute  of  sin  and  positively  good.1  • 

We  by  no  means,  however,  understand  by  the  term  sinlessness 
an  absolute  impossibility  of  sinning.  Not  the  non  posse  peccare, 
but  only  the  posse  non  peccare,  and  the  non  peccasse  should  be  at- 
tributed to  Jesus.  Only  of  God  himself,  in  his  everlasting  and  abso- 
lute holiness,  can  the  perfect  impossibility  of  sinning  be  predicated  ; 
Whenever  we  attribute,  in  a  proper  manner  and  in  the  sense  of 
Scripture,  all  the  moral  elements  of  man  to  Jesus,  we  are  not  to 
disjoin  from  them  that  freedom,  which  is  the  power  of  choosing 
between  good  and  evil ;  and  for  this  very  reason  we  are  to  admit  it 
as  conceivable,  that  he  might  at  some  time,  have  been  influenced  to 
a  departure  from  the  will  of  God.2  Unless  this  be  supposed,  the 
history  of  the  temptation,  however  it  may  be  explained,  would  have 
no  significancy  ;  and  the  expression  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
"  he  was  tempted  in  all  points  as  we,"  would  be  without  meaning. 
Where  there  is  an  absolute  elevation  above  the  possibility  of  sin,  as 
with  God,3  or  where  there  is  altogether  wanting  a  conscience  to  dis- 
tinguish good  and  evil,  and  a  susceptibility  for  the  one  or  the  other, 
as  with  irrational  natures ;  in  all  such  beings  a  moral  temptation 
is  impossible.  But  where  there  is  a  conscience  to  determine  right 
and  wrong,  and  where  there  is  no  absolute  necessity  of  doing  either 
the  one  or  the  other,  as  is  the  case  with  free  human  beings  ;  there 
a  susceptibility  to  temptation  exists,  and  with  it,  a  possibility  of  the 
actual  commission  of  sin.  As  Jesus  was  a  complete  man,  this  sus- 
ceptibility and  this  possibility  must  be  supposed  to  co-exist  in  him. 
Did  they  not  thus  co-exist,  he  would  cease  to  be  an  example  of  per- 

1  See  Note  C,  at  the  close  of  this  Treatise. 

2  "  The  sinlessness  of  Jesus  does  not  depend  upon  his  being  in  any  measure 
exempted  from  the  nature  of  man."  Schleiermacher's  Christl.  Glaub,  II. 
p.  222  :  where  however  there  are  additional  remarks,  which  are  opposed  in 
part  to  the  above. 

3  James  1.  13, li  God  cannot  be  tempted  with  evil. 


396 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


feet  human  morality.1  At  the  same  time,  his  holiness  would  be 
not  the  result  of  freedom,  but  as  we  must  think  the  holiness  of  God 
to  be,  the  result  exclusively  of  the  inner  unchangeable  necessity  of 
his  nature.  And  though,  when  we  contemplate  Jesus  at  the  height 
of  his  perfection,  we  find  in  him  freedom  in  the  highest  sense  of  the 
word  ;  that  is,  a  pure,  perfect  and  uniformly  triumphant  desire  of 
good  ;  still,  this  higher  development  of  freedom  could  originate  only 
froni  that  lower  stage  of  it,  at  which  the  power  of  free  will  appears 
more  evidently  to  be  the  simple  power  of  choosing  between  good 
and  evil.  The  idea  of  sinlessness  presupposes  merely,  that  the  de- 
velopment which  Jesus  made  of  human  morality,  went  on  of  itself, 
without  any  check  or  cessation  of  his  freedom  to  choose  between 
good  and  evil.2 

In  my  opinion,  this  is  the  view  to  be  taken,  when  we  examine 
the  character  of  Jesus,  simply  as  a  human  character.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  reflect  from  a  higher  position  upon  the  plan  of  God  ; 
a  plan  which  has  been  in  process  of  preparation  for  thousands  of 
years,  and  is  destined  to  operate  for  thousands  of  years  to  come,  and 
which  passed  into  fulfilment  through  Jesus  Christ,  then  the  thought 
seems  truly  a  most  fearful  one,  that  Christ  could,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
have  sinned.  Humanly  speaking,  that  plan  of  God  would  have  been 
frustrated,  if  Christ  had  committed  a  single  transgression ;  and  the 
only  light,  that  was  perfectly  clear  in  the  whole  history  of  man, 
would  have  been  put  out.  In  this  relation,  therefore,  there  seems  to 
be  a  still  higher  necessity  in  the  moral  government  of  the  world, 
that  Christ  should  not  have  actually  sinned.  And  if,  moreover,  we 
reflect  that  a  divine  principle  lived  and  operated  in  Jesus,  in  natural 
and  constant  unison  with  the  human  part  of  his  nature,  we  shall  see, 
that  by  this  principle  also,  he  would  be  secured  against  the  actual 
commission  of  iniquity.  Now  I  by  no  means  disown  the  conviction, 
but  rather  profess  it  with  joy,  in  company  with  the  apostles  and  the 
whole  christian  church  ;  the  conviction,  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the 
son  of  the  living  God ;  that  the  whole  fulness  of  the  Deity  actually 
dwelt  in  him,  that  God  was  in  him,  and  was  reconciling  the  world 
to  himself.  This  conviction  is,  to  be  sure,  directly  connected  with 
the  certainty,  that  Christ  was  free  from  transgression,  and  holy,  as 

1  This  position  has  been  established  most  conclusively  by  Kant. ,  Ilelio- 
Innerhalb  der  Granzen  der  bl.  Vernunfl.  >St  2.  Absehn.  1. 

2  See  Note  D,  at  the  clo^e  of  this  Treatise. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JERUS. 


397 


the  God  whose  nature  he  exhihited  to  man,  by  word  and  deed,  by 
life  and  death.  But  in  the  following  treatise,  we  are  with  propriety 
forbidden  to  reason  from  the  principles  of  a  christian  belief  already 
formed  ;  for  this  is  not  designed  to  be  a  dogmatic  development  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  sinlessness  of  Jesus,  but  rather  to  be  an  apologetic 
view,  and  is  thus  designed  to  consult  more  particularly  the 
wants  of  those  readers,  who  are  not  yet  convinced  of  several  funda- 
mental principles  of  Christianity,  nor  even  of  the  truth  and  divinity 
of  the  whole  christian  system.  It  is  doubtless  proper,  therefore,  to 
proceed  from  principles  generally  owned  and  conceded.  But  no 
one  now  denies,  that  Jesus  was  a  true  and  complete  man  ;  and  that 
to  him  as  such  belongs  a  moral  preeminence  altogether  peculiar. 
Christ's  character,  therefore,  is  to  be  considered,  at  present,  in  its 
human  lineaments  alone.  Indeed,  his  sinlessness  is  a  property  not 
of  his  divine,  but  of  his  human  nature,  and  even  in  a  distinctively 
doctrinal  exhibition,  when  the  peculiar  excellences  of  his  human 
nature  are  treated  of,  (under  which  sinlessness  is  usually  ranked),  the 
properties  and  powers  of  his  divine  nature  are  not  canvassed  in 
connection  with  them.  While  we  endeavor  then  to  prove  the 
sinlessness1  of  Jesus,  we  must  not  understand  by  the  term  an  abso- 
lute impossibility  of  sinning,  but  only  the  actual  fact  of  not  sinning, 
and,  what  is  in  a  rational  and  free  nature  inseparable  from  this  fact, 
the  highest  moral  perfection  and  holiness. 


SECTION  III. 

Character  of  the  testimony  which  we  might  desire,  and  of  that  which  we 
have,  concerning  Christ. — Testimony  of  men  who  wex*e  hostile  to  him, 
who  were  indifferent,  who  were  friendly. — The  evangelical  history  not 
dogmatical. 

When  we  examine,  historically,  the  developments  which  Jesus 
made  of  his  own  moral  feeling,  we  are  instantly  inclined  to  wish 
that  men  of  the  most  various  character,  friends  and  foes,  doubters, 
inquirers,  and  inspired  men,  had  left  their  respective  testimonies 
concerning  the  impression  which  his  conduct  made  upon  them. 

1  On  the  use  of  the  word  dvaftafjTtjoia,  some  remarks  will  follow  hereafter. 


398 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


But  this  is  denied  us.  The  few  writers,  not  Christian,  who,  near  the 
apostolic  age,  alluded  to  the  existence  and  works  of  Jesus,  give, 
as  is  well  known,  only  a  negative  decision.  If  we  discover  some 
parts  that  are  genuine  in  the  oft-quoted  passage  of  Josephus,  yet 
they  leave  only  the  general  impression,  that  this  cultivated  Pharisee 
speaks  not  disparagingly,  but  with  respect  and  kindness  of  Christ, 
as  he  does  also  of  John,  the  herald  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  As 
these  testimonies1  give  us  no  precise  information  respecting  the 
spiritual  peculiarities  of  Jesus,  we  must  depend  for  this  information 
on  the  reports  of  his  friends  in  the  Gospels.  And  these  reports  are 
of  such  a  character,  that,  as  to  everything  immediately  relating  to 
the  description  of  Christ's  spirit  and  life,  they  carry  in  themselves 
the  indisputable  pledge  of  truth.  It  may  be  well  regarded  as  an 
established  fact,  that  the  evangelists  were  not  competent  to  originate 
the  spiritual  idea  of  Jesus,  and  that  they  were  enabled  to  exhibit  this 
idea  in  a  manner  as  plain  as  it  is  dignified,  only  by  having  observed 
the  Saviour's  actual  life.  The  Gospels  contain  the  very  richest 
description  of  the  particularcircumstances  in  which  Jesus  was  placed, 
and  present  to  us,  in  features  simple  and  characteristically  true,  the 
impression  which  his  appearance  made  on  men  of  every  class. 
They  contain,  in  peculiarly  vivid  and  affecting  types,  the  whole 
history  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  of  its  relation  to  the  feelings  and 
efforts  of  men.  The  treatment  of  men  toward  Jesus,  and  their 
opinion  of  him  might  indeed,  in  another  history,  have  assumed  a 
different  form,  but  in  substance  they  would  certainly  have  appeared 
just  as  they  now  do. 

If  then  we  look  into  the  Evangelical  history,  we  shall  find  that 
men  of  the  most  various  mental  character  have  given  testimony,  by 
word  and  deed,  that  Jesus  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  moral  excel- 
lence and  also  that  he  was  entirely  pure,  sinless,  and  holy.  His  re- 
markable elevation  of  character  is  proved,  if  we  may  briefly  men- 
tion the  most  significant  actions  and  expressions  that  relate  to  it,  by 
the  hatred  of  his  enemies,  who  strove  in  vain  to  impeach  the  purity 
of  his  demeanor,  and  even  by  the  deportment  of  those  who  remain- 
ed in  other  respects  indifferent  towards  him,  of  Pilate  and  his  wife. 

The  former,  one  in  no  way  susceptible  of  the  lofty  and  the 

1  The  passages  here  referred  to.  from  Suetonius,  Tacitus,  and  Josephus. 
are  too  well  known,  to  make  it  necessary  to  quote  them.  The  passage  from 
Josephus  appears  to  me  to  contain  a  mixture  of  the  genuine  and  the  spurious. 
[For  quotations  from  several  ancient  authors  see  Note  E.  at  the  close. — Tr.] 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


399 


magnanimous,  yea,  a  hard-hearted  and  austere  person,1  felt  him- 
self compelled  to  acknowledge  solemnly  the  innocence  of  the 
persecuted  prisoner ;  and  the  latter,  his  wife,  of  a  gentler  spirit,  but 
in  other  respects  little  concerned  about  a  Jewish  teacher,  was  yet  so 
filled  with  the  certainty  of  the  pure  intention  and  the  blameless  life 
of  Jesus,  that  the  meditation  on  his  fate,  and  the  anxiety  lest  her  hus- 
band should  stain  his  hands  with  the  blood  of  this  innocent  man,2 
allowed  her  no  rest  in  sleep.  And  a  third  Roman,  who,  command- 
ing the  watch  at  the  cross  of  Jesus,  saw  the  whole  process  of  his 
agonizing  crucifixion,  felt  constrained  to  cry  out,  Truly,  this  was  a 
righteous  man  :  he  was  the  Son  of  God.3  What  else  could  move 
the  soldier,  who  felt  strong  in  spirit,  to  utter  these  words,  but,  in 
connection  with  the  remarkable  circumstances  of  Jesus's  death,  the 
perception  of  the  inward  dignity  and  the  noble  spirit  of  the  dying 
man,  for  designating  whom  even  the  Roman  could  find  no 
more  fitting  expression,  than—"  the  Son  of  God."  And  what  a 
spectacle  it  must  have  been,  this  dying  man !  Even  the  malefactor, 
crucified  with  him,  was  strengthened  by  it  to  a  new  hope,  and  filled 
with  the  joys  of  a  better  life.4  This  was  indeed  no  situation  for 
awakening  or  nourishing  the  hopes  of  a  Messiah;  and  yet  the 
crucified  malefactor  discovered  in  the  man  crucified  with  him,  the 
Founder  and  the  Lord  of  the  new  kingdom.  What  an  impression 
also  must  have  been  produced  by  the  spiritual  strength  of  the  man 
forsaken  of  every  outward  aid,  even  on  the  cross  !  How  must  the 
kinglike  and  divine  of  his  nature  have  shone  through  the  deepest 
ignominy  ! 

With  these  testimonies  from  persons  who  were  not  very  well  ac- 
quainted with  Jesus,  is  to  be  ranked  that  of  one  who  knew  him  most 
thoroughly,  and  who  sealed  his  testimony  in  favor  of  Christ's  pure 
and  innocent  character,  with  death,  but  with  a  death  of  utter  despon- 
dency ; — I  refer  to  the  testimony  of  Judas  Iscariot.  Had  the  be- 
trayer of  his  Lord,  through  a  long  and  truly  intimate  intercourse, 
found  in  him  a  single  thing  worthy  of  blame  ;  had  he  recollected  one 

1  For  a  description  of  the  character  of  Pilate,  there  is,  besides  the  Evan- 
gelical history,  a  passage  of  Philo,  not  to  be  overlooked,  de  Legat.  ad  Caj. 
il.  p.  590.  Ed.  Mang.    [See  close  of  Note  E.—Tr.] 

2  Matt.  27:  10.  Especially  the  words:  "Have  thou  nothing  to  do  with 
that  just  man." 

3  Luke  23:  47.  Matt.  27:  54.  4  Luke  23:  40  seq. 


400 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


word  or  one  deed  which  indicated  that  Jesus  was  fanatical  or 
fraudulent  in  his  pretensions  to  be  the  Messiah  from  God,  he  cer- 
tainly would  have  sought  out  the  most  insignificant  foible,  so  that  he 
might  palliate  his  crime  and  relieve  his  conscience  in  view  of  the 
fearful  results  of  his  treachery.  But  he  can  find  nothing.  He  feels 
himself  forced  to  make  the  bitter  confession, — I  have  betrayed  inno- 
cent blood  j1  yea,  the  consciousness  of  this  crime  presses  so  insup- 
portably  upon  his  spirit,  that  he  at  last  goes  out  and  gives  himself 
over  to  death  ! 

If  the  traitor  is  forced  to  testify  thus  concerning  his  Lord,  what 
shall  we  expect  from  Christ's  true  friends,  but  the  unconditional  ac- 
knowledgment of,  and  the  highest  veneration  for  his  perfect  good- 
ness and  holiness  of  motive  and  conduct.  With  entire  harmony, 
they  point  him  out,  in  an  especial  manner,  as  the  just  man  and  the 
holy  ;2  as  the  man  who  was  tempted  in  all  points  as  we  are,  yet 
without  sin  ;3  who  is  the  most  eminent  pattern  for  us,  because  he 
knew  no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his  mouth  ;4  as  the  pure  and 
spotless  lamb  ;5  as  the  true  high  priest  who  is  holy,  harmless,  unde- 
nted, separate  from  sinners,  and  made  higher  than  the  heavens ; 
who  therefore  needed  not,  as  other  high  priests,  to  bring  an  offering 
for  his  own  sins  ;6  who  rather,  simply  because  there  was  no  iniquity 
found  in  him,  was  able  to  take  away  our  iniquities.7  Without  this 
persuasion  of  his  perfect  innocence  and  holiness,  the  apostles  had 
not  been  at  all  able  to  discover  in  him  that  which  they  did  discover, 
not  only  the  noblest  prophet,  but  the  Messiah,  endued  with  the  whole 
fulness  of  the  divine  Spirit  ;8  the  founder  of  a  new  divine  kingdom 
of  love,  truth  and  righteousness,  in  which  he  himself  would  be  the 
lawgiver,  king  and  pattern ;  the  Redeemer  from  sin  ;  the  vanquisher 

1  Matt.  27:  4. 

2  Acts  3:  14.  7:  52.  22:  14.  1  Pet.  3:  18.  1  John  2:  29.  3:  7. 

3  Heb.  4:  15.  «  1  Pet.  2:  21,  22.  5  1  Pet.  1:  19. 
G  Heb.  7:  26,  27. 

7  1  John  3:  5.  2  Cor.  5:  21 .  Consult  on  the  first  passage  Lucke's  Com. 
pp.  161,  162. 

8  In  the  Old  Testament  description  of  the  Messiah  also,  he  is  represented 
as  free  from  sin  ;  Is.  53:  9.  If  the  Messiah  must  be  a  true  servant  of  God, 
a  pure  minister  of  Jehovah,  a  representative  of  God  in  the  Theocracy,  then 
he  must  in  all  respects  perform  the  divine  will,  be  perfectly  righteous,  and 
free  from  iniquity. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


401 


of  all  evil ;  the  image  of  God,  the  only  good  and  holy  One.  Indeed 
no  man  can  be  an  image  of  Jehovah,  a  living  expression  of  the  divine 
nature,  in  whom  there  is  a  single  moral  error  or  delinquency,  who 
in  a  single  respect  deviates  from  God's  moral  law.  lie  only  can  be 
this  image,  who  is  altogether  without  sin,  and  in  the  highest  sense  of 
the  term,  holy  ;  who  is,  as  it  were,  the  incarnated  will  of  God,  and 
who  through  his  whole  life  brings  into  distinct  view  the  law  of  holi- 
ness. Even  so  a  Redeemer  from  sin  and  the  power  of  evil,  can  be 
no  other  than  one  who  is  himself  free  from  the  same ;  every  other 
would  have  stood  in  need  of  his  own  redemption,  and  reconciliation 
with  God.1 

By  these  remarks,  however,  we  would  by  no  means  give  room 
for  the  idea,  that  the  assertion  of  Christ's  sinlessness  was  made  by 
the  apostles  merely  from  the  dogmatical  point  of  view,  that  Jesus 
could  not,  unless  holy,  have  been  the  Messiah  and  Redeemer.  No, 
their  conviction  rested  on  a  thorough  knowledge  of  his  life  ;  they 
did  not  model  the  life  of  Jesus  according  to  their  own  ideas,  but 
their  own  ideas  were  by  degrees  modelled  according  to  the  instruc- 
tions and  the  life  of  Jesus.  They  were  indeed,  at  the  beginning, 
scarcely  able  to  understand  him  ;  they  frequently  were  perplexed 
concerning  him ;  but  they  always  found  themselves  drawn  to  him 
again  with  new  spiritual  power,2  until,  advanced  from  one  degree  of 
evidence  to  another,  they  were  able  to  take  clearly  into  their  vision 
the  lofty  spiritual  image,  which  the  whole  deportment  of  Jesus  held 
out  before  them.  And  accordingly  this  image  is  exhibited  in  the 
Gospels  with  such  artless,  convincing  truth,  that  every  unprejudiced 
man  feels  and  will  confess,  that  it  was  not  a  doctrinal  presupposi- 
tion from  which  the  apostles  started,  and  then  described  a  man  who 
might  answer  somewhat  to  their  ideal  of  pure  holiness  ;  but  it  was 
an  actual,  real  life  which  was  displayed  before  them,  and  from 
which  was  developed  in  their  minds,  a  faith  in  the  Holy  and  God-like 
man. 

1  Heb.  7:  26,  27.  2  See,  for  example,  John  6:  69. 


51 


402 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


SECTION  IV. 

Peculiar  elevation  of  Christ's  character;  his  serenity,  moderation,  conde- 
scension, power  to  govern  both  himself  and  others,  dignity  in  the  treat- 
ment of  his  enemies,  tenderness  of  sympathy,  liberality  of  mind,  expan- 
sive benevolence,  completeness  of  character,  physical  temperament. — 
Ruling  motive  of  his  life. — Importance  of  his  character,  as  a  bare  idea; 
how  this  idea  must  have  been  obtained  by  the  evangelists. 

The  idea  which  Christ's  disciples  give  us  of  his  character  is  ele- 
vated and  peculiar.  There  is  in  it  this  peculiarity  ;  though  always 
unattainable,  the  character  stands  before  us  in  so  much  the  greater 
dignity  and  pureness,  the  more  highly  we  cultivate  our  own  spirits, 
and  the  more  strenuously  we  endeavor,  under  the  influence  of  love, 
to  assimilate  ourselves  to  it.  Every  attempt  therefore  to  represent 
the  fulness  of  Christ's  moral  nature  must  of  necessity  be  but  par- 
tially successful.  And  the  following  remarks  must  be  received 
with  a  full  understanding  of  their  necessary  imperfection.  For 
they  are  remarks,  that  venture  to  arrange  in  one  connected  order 
what  the  evangelists  have  left  scattered,  and  to  reduce  the  whole 
to  the  principle  which  pervades  and  animates  the  entire  practice  of 
Jesus. 

The  events  of  Christ's  life  give  the  impression,  that  he  had  the 
greatest  calmness,  clearness  of  mind,  and  discretion,  united  with 
living,  deep  enthusiasm.  It  is  not  the  vehement  strain,  the  flaming 
spirit  of  Isaiah  and  Ezekiel,  that  distinguishes  him ;  not  the  legisla- 
tive, sometimes  violent  energy  of  Moses ;  his  whole  nature  is  se- 
renity and  peace  ;  and  the  blazing,  consuming  fire  of  the  old  pro- 
phets changes  itself  in  him  into  a  soft  creative  breathing  of  the  spi- 
rit, into  an  uninterrupted  consecration  of  the  soul  to  God.  In  the 
spiritual  atmosphere  to  which  others  raise  themselves  only  in  the 
hours  of  their  special  consecration,  he  walks  as  in  his  appropriate 
element  of  life.  As  the  sun  in  a  clear  firmament,  so  he,  still  and 
sure,  travels  on  in  his  safe  path,  and  never  deviates,  dispensing  light 
and  life.  His  action  is  full  of  love,  without  effervescence  of  feel- 
ing, without  vehemence  and  passion.  He  does  nothing  indiscreet 
and  aimless;  whatever  he  begins  is  securely  finished" and  accom- 
plishes its  design.  Even  when  with  holy  reluctance,  he  comes  to  re- 
prove in  word  or  in  deed,  it  is  no  irritated  personal  feeling,  that  vents 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


403 


itself,  but  it  is  always  the  indignation  of  love  ;  holy,  free  from  all 
selfish  aim,  hating  the  vice,  but  yet,  in  the  vicious,  loving  the  man 
who  is  still  susceptible  of  improvement.  And  in  all  this,  he  never 
oversteps  the  bounds  of  moderation. 

Jesus  is  soft  and  mild  ;  he  seeks  above  all,  the  lowly,  the  help- 
less, the  despised  ;  and  of  his  own  free  will  lets  himself  down  to  the 
deepest  degradation,  and  the  most  ignominious  suffering  ;  but  from 
under  the  veil  of  poverty  and  distress  which  covers  him,  there  shines 
forth  in  every  situation  of  his  life  a  high,  kingly  spirit.  He  pos- 
sessed that  talent  for  government,  that  commanding  power,  by  means 
of  which  great  minds  are  always  and  entirely  their  own  masters ;  by 
which  they  know,  in  the  most  embarrassing  situations  and  with  the  com- 
posure of  one  free  from  doubt,  just  what  is  right  and  fit  to  be  done,  and 
by  which  they  hold  a  sway  over  other  minds  that  is  like  enchantment. 
With  this  dignity,  this  kingly  mien,  sealed  by  his  spiritual  greatness, 
did  the  same  Jesus  who  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head,  move  about 
among  his  friends,  and  present  himself  before  his  foes.  "  His  deed 
was  decisive  as  his  word,  his  word  as  his  deed."  Where  his  ene- 
mies sought  to  lay  snares  for  him,  he  rent  asunder  the  snares,  and 
with  his  superior  power  of  mind,  repelled  all  attacks,  until  himself 
was  convinced  that  his  hour  had  come.  Not  seldom  did  he  shame 
his  enemies  by  bare  silence  ;  a  silence  which  was  then  most  effec- 
tive when,  in  calm  consciousness  of  innocence,  he  stood  before  the 
Sanhedrim  as  they  were  burning  with  revenge.  But  nothing  ex- 
ceeds the  dignity  with  which  Jesus  bore  testimony  of  himself,  in  face 
of  the  secular  governor  and  judge.  "I  am  a  king :  for  this  end  I 
was  born,  and  have  come  into  the  world,  that  I  may  testify  to  the 
truth :  whoso  is  of  the  truth,  heareth  my  voice."  How  all  other 
greatness  fades  away,  before  the  consciousness  of  such  elevation ! 
And  what  word  of  sage,  hero,  or  any  one  of  the  greatest  or  mighti- 
est men,  can  for  its  inward  majesty,  be  placed  by  the  side  of  this, 
"  I  am  a  king  ;  for  this  end  have  I  come  into  the  world,  that  I  may 
testify  to  the  truth  !" 

With  the  greatness  of  a  hero  Jesus  stepped  forth  in  the  garden  of 
Gethsemane,  among  the  officers  who  sought  him,  and  said,  "  I  am 
he,"  and  they  fell  on  the  ground  before  him.  With  a  power  that 
cut  to  the  heart,  he  said  to  Judas,  "  Betrayest  thou  the  Son  of  man 
with  a  kiss  !"  With  a  look  full  of  love,  yet  doubtless  full  of  reprov- 
ing dignity,  he  deeply  pierced  the  soul  of  the  disciple,  who  had  de- 


404 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


nied  him  ;  and  what  irresistible  effect  must  the  thrice  repeated  words 
have  had,  which,  soon  after  rising  from  the  dead,  he  addressed  to  the 
same  disciple,  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me  ?"  It  was  the 
court  of  love,  which  here  pronounced  its  decision  upon  the  unfaith- 
ful friend  ;  a  decision  in  which  lay  a  marvellous  power  to  humble 
deeply  the  magnanimous  disciple,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  afford 
him  a  truly  exquisite  relief,  and  to  strengthen  him. 

Such  words  of  life  and  power,  spoken  with  the  majesty  of  Jesus, 
must  work  irresistibly  ;  they  must  entrench  themselves  in  the  souls 
of  those  who  heard,  so  as  never  to  be  expelled.  They  show  to  us  a 
man  in  the  noblest  sense  of  the  word,  a  king-like  hero,  who  is  so 
much  the  greater,  because  without  any  outward  power,  he  merely 
bears  the  sword  of  spiritual  worth.  And  even  this  great  man,  whose 
will,  never  deviating  from  the  way  of  God,  no  power  of  earth  could 
bend,  who  was  even  as  mighty  in  deed,  as  silent,  self-denying,  and 
piously  trustful  in  suffering, — he  was  also  as  mild  and  full  of  love, 
as  the  gentlest  woman,1  when  he  would  aid,  console,  feelingly  sym- 
pathize. He  went  about  and  did  good,  helped  the  poor  in  body  and 
in  spirit ;  blessed  children,  placed  himself  on  a  level  with  the  least 
of  his  brethren  ;  for  whoever  comforts  one  of  these  least  with  a  cup 
of  water,  hath  done  the  same  unto  me.2  Nothing  that  concerned 
humanity  was  foreign  from  him ;  every  man  stood  near  to  him  as  a 
brother.  His  characteristic  action  was,  to  raise  up  again  the  bruised 
reed,  to  enkindle  anew  the  glimmering  wick.  He  wept  over  the 
city  that  rejected  him,  and  prayed  on  his  cross  for  those  who  had 
nailed  him  to  it.    His  whole  life  was  a  sacrifice. 

As  Jesus,  in  his  moral  constitution,  did  not  belong  exclusively  to 
one  sex,  so  neither  in  any  of  his  higher  operations,  was  he  fettered 
by  family  ties  ;  nor  in  his  whole  spiritual  formation,  was  there  any 
national  feeling,  which  could  restrain  his  comprehensive,  pure  phi- 
lanthropy. He  was  the  best  of  sons,  and  performed  the  duties  im- 
posed by  the  filial  relation,  with  the  tenderest  love,  even  in  the  hour 
of  death.    But  at  the  same  time  he  made  all  that  was  personal  in 

1  He  blended  in  his  nature  the  virtues  of  the  noblest  manliness,  with  those 
of  the  purest  womanhood  ;  and  was  also,  in  this  respect,  the  most  complete 
model  of  a  perfect  human  being  ;  so  that  although  his  destiny  required  him 
to  belong  to  one  sex,  he  yet  is  a  suitable  pattern  for  the  purest  virtues  of  the 
other. 

»  Matt,  10:  42. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


such  connections  subordinate  to  what  was  higher,  to  the  general 
good,  to  the  glory  of  his  Father.1  As  the  Messiah,  his  office  was  of 
greater  moment  to  him,  than  all  these  relations  ;  as  the  founder  of 
the  kingdom  of  God,  he  recognized  in  every  one  who  did  the  will 
of  God,  his  mother,  his  brother,  his  sister  ; — and  he  required  of 
every  one  who  entered  into  this  great  spiritual  covenant,  that  he 
should  be  ready  to  sacrifice  the  most  precious  personal  connections, 
whenever  the  law  or  the  design  of  the  new  kingdom  demanded  it. 
So  likewise  Jesus  was  a  pious  Jew,  and  observed  the  religious  cus- 
toms and  laws  of  his  nation  with  as  much  scrupulousness  as  liberal- 
ity of  spirit ;  yet  nothing  at  all  of  an  unseemly  national  prejudice 
was  mingled  with  his  observances;  not  a  shadow  of  that  which 
pointed  out  a  Jew,  as  such,  to  his  disadvantage.  He  possessed  the 
virtues  of  his  theological  nation,  as  it  may  not  unfitly  be  called ;  but 
in  such  a  way,  that  they  could  be  generally  appropriate  to  man  in 
any  relations  whatever.  And  by  this  he  distinguishes  himself,  in  the 
most  prominent  manner,  from  all,  even  the  greatest  spirits  of  anti- 
quity.2 All  these  great  spirits  have  a  thoroughly  national  stamp ; 
their  most  praiseworthy  virtue  is  the  free  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
their  country  ;  their  highest  enthusiasm  is  devoted  to  the  interests  of 
their  own  nation  ;  their  noblest  sacrifice  is  death  for  the  land  of  their 
fathers ;  the  great  work  of  their  life  is,  to  express  the  full  spirit  of 
their  people ;  in  this  spirit  to  act,  for  this  spirit,  if  need  be,  to  give 
up  all.  In  the  strength  of  his  endeavor,  in  his  ability  to  make  every 
sacrifice,  Jesus  stands  second  to  none  of  the  greatest  heroes ;  but 
he  performs  his  labors  and  makes  his  sacrifices  not  barely  for  his 
own  nation,  but  for  all  mankind.  Free  from  every  impulse  of  that 
national  feeling  that  stints  the  soul,  he  develops  himself  purely  from 
within,  from  his  own  resources ;  and  as  he  exhibits  the  image  of  a 
man  in  his  whole,  unspotted,  perfect  nature,  and  is  the  first  by  whom 
the  idea  of  pure  humanity,  in  the  highest  and  at  the  same  time  the 
realized  sense  of  that  word,  was  presented  to  the  human  mind, — so 
is  he  the  first  who  breaking  over  all  the  bounds  of  national  predilec- 
tion, embraces  in  his  efforts,  and  with  holy  love,  the  whole  race ;  ven- 
tures for  the  whole  race  to  live  and  to  die. 

In  general,  the  character  of  Jesus,  though  thoroughly  individual 

1  For  examples,  see  John  2:  4.  Mark  3:  32—35.  Luke  11:  27,  28. 

2  [See  a  lengthened  examination  of  this  topic  in  Reinhard's  Plan,  Part 
II.-Tr] 


406 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


and  unlike  every  other,  has  yet  no  such  eccentric  or  peculiar  fea- 
ture, as  results  from  a  disproportional  combination  of  the  inward 
faculties.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  in  his  nature  the  most  perfect 
harmony  and  completeness ;  and  his  acts  bear  the  stamp  of  univer- 
sal propriety  and  rectitude.  Who  can  say,  that  the  peculiar  charac- 
teristic of  Jesus  was  soundness  of  judgment,  or  tenderness  of  feel- 
ing, or  richness  of  fancy,  or  power  of  execution  ?  But  all  these  ex- 
cellences are  found  in  him,  just  in  their  due  proportion,  and  they 
work  together  in  uninterrupted  harmony.1    High  fervor  and  gra- 

1  It  seems  to  us  altogether  erroneous,  to  ascribe  a  temperament  to  Jesus 
in  the  ordinary  sense  of  that  word  ;  as  is  done  at  large  by  Winkler,  for  ex- 
ample, in  his  Psychography  of  Jesus,  p.  122  seq.  He  makes  the  Saviour  to  be 
a  man  of  the  choleric  temperament,  and  remarks  :  "  The  choleric  (choleriker, 
bilious)  temperament  is  that  of  every  great  mind.  If  any  mind  be  destitute 
of  it,  then  it  is  a  mind  within  itself,  but  not  out  of  itself  (!)  ;  it  has  a  power 
for  investigation,  but  wants  elasticity  of  action,  etc."  A  temperament  al- 
ways indicates  a  certain  disproportion  in  the  mingling  of  the  internal  powers, 
a  preponderance  of  one  part  of  the  mental  dispositions  over  another;  but 
this  was  not  the  case  with  Jesus,  for  in  him  was  found  the  purest  tempcra- 
mentum,  in  the  old  sense  of  that  word  ;  a  thoroughly  harmonious  combina- 
tion ;  a  just,  sound  proportion  of  all  powers  and  dispositions. 

[It  may  be  worthy  of  a  quere,  in  passing,  whether  the  popular  apprehen- 
sion of  the  Messiah  does  not  deny  him  this  completeness  of  character,  and 
attach  to  him  those  excellences  only  which  belong  to  a  particular  tempera- 
ment, and  are  peculiarly  appropriate  to  one  of  the  sexes.  Does  not  the  tone 
of  authority  which  Christ  sometimes  employed,  of  severe  reproof,  of  high- 
minded  indignation,  conflict  somewhat  with  the  prevailing  ideas  of  his  pre- 
dominant virtues  ?  Has  not  a  partial  view  of  his  character,  combined  with 
an  unfounded  interpretation  of  certain  passages  of  Scripture,  led  many  ficti- 
tious writers,  and  many  painters,  both  ancient  and  modern,  to  represent 
Christ's  personal  appearance  as  more  effeminate  than  we  need  suppose  it 
to  have  been  ?  (We  have  indeed  no  means  of  determining  what  his  personal 
appearance  was,  but  from  such  passages  as  Luke  4:  15 — 30.  Mark  11:  12 — 
19.  John  18:  6,  etc.,  we  cannot  think  it  so  destitute  of  the  manly,  as  it  is  of- 
ten reoresented).  Is  not  the  same  one-sided  view  which  is  often  taken  of 
Christ's  personal  character,  taken  also  of  his  Gospel  ?  The  prevalent  idea 
of  the  evangelical  system  is  expressed  perhaps  in  Paley's  Evidences,  Works, 
Vol.  II.  pp.  175,  176.  Cam.  Ed.,  but  the  representation  there  given  will  cer- 
tainly not  explain  some  of  the  phenomena  in  the  conduct  and  the  teachings 
of  Christ  and  his  apostles.  To  this  habit  of  diverting  the  attention  from  the 
whole  of  Christ's  excellences  to  one  particular  class  of  them,  may  be^  as- 
cribed in  part  the  disrepute  into  which  several  of  the  sterner  virtues  have 
sometimes  fallen,  and  the  association  of  something  unchristian  with  all  acts 
of  self-defence.    The  remarks  of  such  writers  as  Dymond,  on  War,  Litiga- 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


407 


cious  mildness;  heavenly  serenity  and  absorbing  sadness  ;  elevation 
above  earthly  pleasures  and  conditions,  and  a  pure  cheerful  enjoy- 
ment of  the  same ;  regal  dignity  and  self-denying  humbleness ;  vehe- 
ment hatred  toward  sin  and  affectionate  forbearance  toward  the  sin- 
ner,— all  these  qualities  are  combined  up  his  nature  in  one  insepara- 
ble whole,  in  the  most  perfect  unison ;  and  they  leave  on  the  spec- 
tator the  lingering  idea  of  peace  and  perfect  subordination.  Never 
was  Jesus  driven  out  of  his  own  path  ;  it  was  a  quiet  path,  and  al- 
ways even.  All  the  manifestations  of  his  spiritual  life  have  one 
great  aim  ;  his  whole  character  has  a  unity  that  is  perfect,  com- 
plete within  itself.  This  unity  and  completeness  in  the  spiritual  life 
of  Jesus  depends  on  the  unity  of  the  principle  from  which  all  his 
manifestations  of  feeling  proceed,  by  which  they  are  pervaded  and 
animated.  And  this  principle  is  not  in  any  respect  the  abstract  mo- 
ral law  ;  not  in  any  respect,  a  mere  endeavor,  in  conformity  with  the 
judgment,  to  act  right  and  perform  duty  ;  but  it  is  the  simple,  great, 
fundamental  purpose,  born  out  of  free-hearted  love,  to  do  the  ivill  of 
God.  It  is  apparent  from  multiplied  expressions  of  Jesus,  and  from 
all  his  acts,  that  the  will  of  his  Father,  which  he  was  entirely  cer- 
tain that  he  perfectly  understood,  was  the  only  rule  and  the  living 
power  of  his  conduct.  To  God,  as  the  source  of  his  spiritual  life, 
wras  his  soul  ever  turned  ;  and  this  direction  of  his  mind  was  a  mat- 
ter of  indispensable  necessity  to  him.  It  was  his  meat  and  his  drink 
to  do  the  will  of  the  Father.  Without  uniting  himself  to  God  wholly, 
consecrating  himself  to  God  unreservedly,  feeling  himself  to  be  per- 
fectly one  with  God,  he  could  not  have  lived  ;  he  could  not  have 
been  at  peace  in  his  spirit  a  single  instant.  By  this  means,  the  mo- 
tion, etc.,  in  his  Ess.  on  Mor.  pp.  J25— 128.  404 — 424,  etc.,  exhibit  a  kind  of 
emasculated  principle,  which  would  have  shrunk  back  from  making  "a 
scourge  of  small  cords."  As  in  listening  to  a  choir  of  music,  we  choose  to 
perceive  the  harmony  of  the  whole  choir,  rather  than  the  prominence  of  one 
particular  voice  ;  as  in  viewing  a  monument  of  architecture,  we  choose  to 
see  adue  proportion  in  the  whole,  rather  than  a  protuberance  of  one  particu- 
lar part,  so  in  surveying  the  character  of  Christ,  it  is  more  grateful  and  more 
useful,  to  notice  its  symmetry  and  exquisite  balance,  than  to  see  any  one  of 
his  virtues  disturbed  in  its  nice  adjustment  and  magnified  at  the  expense  of 
others.  A  healthy  mind  will  regard  the  Saviour  as  the  impersonation  of  all 
the  excellences  duly  blended,  rather  than  as  one  who  allows  an  individual 
excellence  to  transcend  its  line  of  proportion,  and  to  assume  the  character, 
which  has  been  assigned  by  the  poet  to  a  "  virtue  out  of  place." — Tr.] 


408 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


rality  of  Jesus  became  perfectly  religious  ;  it  was  not  merely  some- 
thing which  flowed  from  a  sense  of  duty,  it  was  a  holy  sentiment  of 
the  heart. 

It  is  indeed  true,  as  a  saint  who  knew  Christianity  from  the  life, 
once  said  in  his  heart-winning  way,1  "  One  might  well  consent  to 
be  branded  and  broken  on  the  wheel,  merely  for  the  idea  of  such  a 
character  as  Christ's ;  and  if  any  one  should  be  able  to  mock  and 
deride,  he  must  be  insane.    Every  man,  whose  heart  is  in  the  right 
state,  will  lie  in  the  dust,  and  rejoice,  and  adore."    It  is  true  ;  even 
as  a  bare  idea,  the  spiritual  image  of  Jesus,  which  the  Bible  holds 
out  to  us,  is  the  most  dignified  and  the  most  precious,  which  is  known 
to  our  race.    It  is  an  idea,  for  which  one  may  well  be  justified 
in  offering  up  his  life.    Fcr,  we  may  boldly  assert,  this  idea  is  the 
most  sublime  to  which,  in  the  province  of  morality  and  religion,  the 
human  mind  has  been  raised.    It  is  the  jewel  of  humanity,  and 
whoever  knowingly  tarnishes  or  disfigures  it,  commits  an  outrage 
against  the  majesty  of  the  heaven-born  soul  of  man,  in  its  most 
beauteous  manifestations.     Let  it  be  a  fable,  it  is  still  the  most 
noble  truth,  which  has  been  either  received  or  communicated  by 
the  human  mind,  and  preponderates,  even  as  a  fable,  over  a  thou- 
sand verities  of  ordinary  experience.    But  it  is  not  a  fable  ;  it  is  not 
a  bare  idea ;  for  the  man  who  was  able  to  produce,  from  his  own  in- 
vention, such  a  character,  such  a  pattern,  must  himself  have  posses- 
sed this  greatness  of  soul,  if  we  deny  that  he  observed  it  in  another. 
We  must  transfer  the  spiritual  and  moral  greatness  of  Jesus  to  his 
biographer,  if  we  deny  it  to  himself.2    If  we  glance  at  the  greatest 
characters  which  have  been  exquisitely  portrayed  to  us  by  the 
creative  power  and  art  of  the  most  gifted  poets,  do  we  find  in  these 

1  The  Wandsbeck  Messenger,  in  the  excellent  letters  to  Andres,  Letter  I. 

2  [The  reader  will  perceive  that  this  is  the  same  idea  with  that  of  Rousseau 
in  his'  celebrated  eulogium  on  the  character  of  Christ.  May  not  a  man, 
some  will  ask,  conceive  of  virtues  which  he  does  not  practise,  and  imagine 
an  excellence  of  character  far  above  that  which  he  will  ever  attain  ?  That 
such  an  operation  does  not  exceed  the  original  powers  of  the  mind,  Ullmann 
would  be  willing  to  admit ;  but  he  intends  to  deny  strongly,  that  men  like 
the  evangelists  would  in  fact  have  ever  originated  the  idea  of  a  character  like 
Christ's,  and  to  maintain  that  such  an  operation  would  be  as  contrary  to  the 
usual  processes  of  the  mind,  as  if  it  exceeded  the  constitutional  capacity. 
The  moral  wonder  in  the  one  case  would  be  as  improbable  as  the  natural 
jniracle  in  the  other.— Tr.J 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


409 


characters  anything  like  that  which  is  developed  in  Jesus  ?  And 
these  plain,  uncultivated,  Jewish  evangelists,  they  forsooth  desired  to 
invent  such  a  character  !  they  forsooth  were  able  to  invent  it !  How 
far,  as  an  unaided  man,  did  each  of  these  writers  of  Memorabilia 
stand  below  Xenophon  and  Plato ;  and  yet  how  high,  in  its  silent 
majesty,  stands  the  simple  image  of  Jesus,  which  the  unlettered 
evangelists  present,  above  the  character  that  is  given  to  the  wisest 
Greeks  by  the  two  masters  of  language  and  rhetoric ! 


SECTION  V. 

Two  objections  to  the  reception  of  the  apostles'  testimony  respecting  the 
sinlessness  of  Christ,  stated  and  answered. — Testimony  of  Christ  himself 
respecting  his  own  sinlessness. — Particular  explanation  of  some  expres- 
sions which  he  used  concerning  himself. — Objections  to  Christ's  testimony 
stated  and  answered. 

If  then  we  cannot  deny  that  the  apostles,  with  entire  unanimity, 
supposed  Jesus  to  possess  a  nature  perfectly  sinless  and  holy,  and 
that  they  gave,  as  evidence  of  the  correctness  of  their  supposition, 
a  most  vivid  and  true  history  of  his  unimpeachable  deportment,  we 
are  still  met  by  another  objection  which  needs  to  be  briefly  consid- 
ered. It  is  said  for  instance,  "  that  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  the 
testimony  of  the  apostles  concerning  Jesus,  so  far  as  they  give  it  as 
a  result  of  their  own  observation,  must  be  merely  negative  ;  it  must 
be  merely,  that  they  knew  no  sin  which  he  had  committed.  For,  in 
the  first  place,  they  knew  Jesus  only  during  the  three  years  of  his 
public  office  as  a  teacher,  but  not  during  his  earlier  life  ;  in  the  se- 
cond place,  the  moral  worth  of  actions  depends  on  the  motive  which 
determines  them,  and  which  can  be  judged  of  only  by  God."1 

As  to  the  first  objection,  that  the  acquaintance  of  the  apostles 
with  the  mind  and  conduct  of  Jesus,  was  limited  to  the  period  of  his 
public  ministry,  and  that  they  could  not  have  known  what  moral 

1  This  train  of  thought  is  pursued  by  Weber,  in  the  Programma  above 
mentioned:  Virtutis  Jesu  lntegritas  neque  ex  ipsius  Professionibus,  neque 
ex  Actionibus  doceri  potest.  Viteb.  1796.  Bretsehneider  coincides  with  him, 
Dogmatik.  §  138. 

52 


410 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


errors  he  may  have  committed  during  the  thirty  years  preceding ; 
this,  in  our  judgment,  presupposes  an  incorrect  idea  respecting  the 
general  development  of  moral  qualities.  This  development  should  al- 
ways be  viewed  as  a  growing  whole,  its  parts  dependent  on  each  other ; 
and  though  great  crises,  though  sudden  and  extraordinary  changes 
may  take  place  in  the  same  individual,  still  the  earlier  moral  con- 
dition will  transmit  its  influence  to  the  later.  Particularly  the  earlier 
sins  cannot  be  so  absolutely  effaced,  that  traces  and  effects  of  them 
will  not  be  found  afterward  in  the  moral  consciousness,  in  the  feel- 
ing, in  the  conduct  Every  sin  has  its  moral  influences,1  the  con- 
science is  stained  by  it,  and  prevented  from  raising  itself  to  that 
state  of  perfect  innocence,  purity  and  safety  which  according  to  the 
Scriptures  must  be  supposed  to  have  been  the  state  of  Jesus.  We 
must  either  entirely  deny,  that  the  testimony  of  the  apostles  con- 
cerning the  excellence  of  Christ's  feeling  and  conduct  is  valid,  or,  if 
we  admit  its  validity  in  respect  to  the  years  of  their  intimate  inter- 
course, we  must  deduce  from  it  the  positive  inference  that  his  earlier 
life  was  also  free  from  sin.2  The  developments  of  those  three  years 
were  merely  the  result  of  his  earlier  life,  and  cannot  be  separated 
from  it  arbitrarily.  Such  fruit,  as  the  moral  conduct  of  Jesus,  so  far 
as  we  know  it,  could  grow  only  from  a  root  thoroughly  healthy  and 
sound ;  and  if  a  part  of  his  conduct  was  actually  perfect,  then  the 
whole  must  have  been. 

We  will  now  consider  the  second  objection,  which  is,  that  the 
apostles  could  judge  of  nothing  but  the  outward  legality  of  Christ's 
deportment,  and  could  not  decide  upon  its  internal  morality,  since 
this  depends  upon  feeling  and  motive.     It  is  indeed  true  that 

1  Very  apt  and  profound  remarks  on  this  subject  may  be  found  in  Schleier- 
macher's  writings,  particularly  in  the  fourth  of  his  Fenst-day  Sermons,  p.  95 
seq.  We  beg  that  the  whole  of  this  sermon,  very  weighty  as  a  doctrinal 
one,  may  be  compared  with  our  own  views. 

2  If  the  reader,  in  addition  to  this,  desires  express  testimony  in  favor  of  the 
earlier  period  of  Christ's  life,  we  may  adduce  the  very  important  expressions 
of  John  the  Baptist.  That  there  was  an  early  intimacy  between  Jesus  and 
John,  seems  to  me  in  the  highest  degree  probable,  (the  words,  1  knew  him 
not,  John  1:  31,  33,  referring  merely  to  the  full  recognition  of  him  as  the 
Messiah)  ;  and  if  this  be  admitted,  then  the  refusal  of  John  to  baptize  Jesus, 
his  modest  retirement  at  the  public  appearance  of  Jesus,  in  short  his  whole 
connection  with  the  Messiah,  is  a  most  important  and  decisive  argument  for 
Christ's  extraordinary  moral  elevation  in  this  earlier  period  of  his  life. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


Ill 


they  could  not,  as  the  All-Wise,  look  directly  into  his  heart ;  but 
what  is  the  life  other  than  a  representation  and  development  of  the 
spirit  ?  and  can  we  satisfactorily  account  for  such  a  perfect  moral 
life,  otherwise  than  on  the  ground  of  a  perfect  moral  intention  ?  such 
pure  conduct  otherwise  than  on  the  ground  of  pure  motive  ?  Shall 
we  derive  purity  from  impurity,  goodness  from  badness  ?  Or  what 
one  act  in  the  life  of  Jesus  is  fitted  to  encourage  the  suspicion,  that 
he  may  at  any  time  have  been  merely  legal  in  his  outward  de- 
meanor, without  being  truly  moral  ?  that  there  may  have  been  a 
discordance  between  his  feeling  and  his  conduct?1  But  if,  since  we 
have  not  the  least  reason  for  thinking  otherwise,  the  inward  and  the 
outward,  the  feeling  and  the  conduct,  the  motive  and  the  deed  were 
in  Jesus  one  harmonious  whole,  then  the  apostles  had  a  right,  and 
we  have  the  same,  to  argue  from  the  perfect  goodness  of  the  con- 
duct, to  the  perfect  purity  of  the  motive  from  which  the  conduct 
emanated. 

But  should  our  minds  still  hesitate,  they  will  be  convinced  by 
Christ's  own  testimony  respecting  himself,  which  is  of  the  highest 
importance.  We  may  rely  upon  the  most  entire  self-knowledge  and 
veracity  of  Jesus,  on  the  one  hand,  and  upon  his  great  humility  on 
the  other  ;  yea,  unless  we  would  introduce  into  his  spiritual  and  mo- 
ral nature  contradictions,  which  cannot  be  proved  to  exist,  we  are 
compelled  to  attribute  to  him  these  qualities.  Now  this  same  Jesus, 
in  life  and  in  death  a  man  of  truth,  a  pattern  of  the  purest  humility, 
comes  forth  with  the  highest  and  clearest  confidence  in  his  own  char- 
acter, and  utters  respecting  himself  these  peculiar  words,  '  Who  can 
accuse  me  of  sin  ?'2 — words  which  indeed  no  other  mortal  without 
revolting  arrogance  can  repeat  after  him,  and  which  no  other  one 
has  repeated,  unless  it  be  in  frantic  fanaticism,  or  in  the  most  melan- 
choly infatuation.  Indeed  conscience  and  the  law  of  nature  oblige 
every  one  to  confess  his  sin ;  and  still  more  under  the  christian  sys- 
tem, which  develops  so  clearly  the  idea  of  a  holy  God,  and  the  exam- 
ple of  a  Redeemer,  and  the  perfect  purity  of  a  moral  law,  must  the 

1  "  It  is  the  dictate  of  justice,  says  Kant,  that  the  irreproachable  example  of 
a  teacher,  in  respect  to  that  which  he  teaches,  especially  if  this  example  is  a 
duty  for  every  man,  be  ascribed  to  no  other  than  the  most  obvious  motive, 
unless  there  be  evidence  of  some  other."  Is  there  any  such  evidence  in  the 
case  of  Jesus  ; 

2  John  8:  46. 


412 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


conviction  of  sin  be  deepened  in  the  greatest  degree.  And  accord- 
ingly the  same  John,  who  reported  to  us  that  remarkable  expres- 
sion of  Jesus,  could  with  undoubted  justice  declare,  "  If  we  say  we 
have  no  sin,  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  us."1  From 
this  declaration,  applicable  to  all  men,  confirmed  by  every  one's  in- 
most consciousness,  Jesus  represents  himself  as  an  exception ;  he 
denies  that  any  one  can  accuse  him  of  u(xaQxLa.  The  meaning  of 
this  expression  is  somewhat  doubtful.  It  is  a  question,  whether 
aiidQxLtt  is  to  be  taken  in  the  ordinary  New  Testament  sense,  as  sin 
properly  so  called,  as  moral  delinquency  ;  or  rather,  according  to  pure 
Greek  usage,  as  theoretical  departure  from  truth,  as  error.  The  last 
signification  seems  indeed,  at  first  glance,  to  coincide  more  exactly 
with  the  context,  and  particularly  to  form  a  more  striking  contrast  to 
the  preceding  aA^etot,  and  the  succeeding  alr\&aav  Uyeiv.  But  in 
the  first  place,  it  would  be  difficult  to  point  out  a  decided  instance 
of  this  use  of  the  word  in  the  Hebrew  Greek  ;  and  in  the  second 
place,  we  are  bound  especially  to  consider,  that  in  the  whole  passage 
the  knowledge  and  reception  of  the  truth  (v.  47),  as  well  as  the  re- 
jection of  it  (v.  44),  is  placed  in  most  intimate  connection  with  the 
moral  state  of  the  soul.  According  to  this  last  idea  then,  the  appeal 
of  Jesus  to  the  perfect  purity  and  faultlessness  of  his  moral  charac- 
ter, for  establishing  the  truth  of  his  doctrine,  would  be  in  no  way 
disconnected  and  isolated.  So  far  from  it  indeed,  there  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  the  whole  passage  the  sound  principle,  that  as  untruth 
and  error  proceed  from  a  sinful  bias  of  the  will,  so  the  clear  apprehen- 
sion of  truth  is  most  intimately  connected  with  exemption  from  sin, 
and  indeed  is  absolutely  dependent  upon  it.  Should  there  be  also 
in  the  word  afietQTtofi  a  reference  to  theoretical  error,  still  Jesus  cer- 
tainly asserted  his  faultlessness  in  knowledge,  only  so  far  as  he  at  the 
same  time  asserted  his  faultlessness  of  will,  only  so  far  as  he  attributed 
to  himself  the  stvai  in  toD  &eov  in  the  most  eminent  sense,  that  is, 
the  most  perfect  connection  with  God.  In  each  interpretation  of  the 
passage  then,  freedom  from  sin  is  directly  implied. 

The  same  elevation  of  the  moral  consciousness,  and  the  sure  con- 
viction of  perfect  freedom  from  sin  are  equally  evident  in  other  ex- 
pressions of  Jesus  ;  not  only  in  those  where  he  designates  himself 

1  See  John  1:  8,  and,  upon  this  passage,  Ltlcke.  III.  pp.  98 — 100. 

2  Some  translate  the  words,  perhaps  most  fitly,  who  can  accvse  mc  of  a 
failing,  in  which  expression  there  is  also  a  double  reference  to  the  practical 
and  the  theoretical. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


413 


as  the  Messiah,  but  chiefly  in  those  passages  of  weighty  import, 
where  he  says,  "  I  and  my  Father  are  one  ;"  "  whoso  seeth  me, 
seeth  the  Father."1  We  are  not  of  the  opinion,  that  there  can  be 
derived  from  the  oneness  with  the  Father  which  is  asserted  in  the 
first  of  these  passages,  the  metaphysical  idea  of  oneness  of  essence, 
and  the  whole  doctrine  of  the  church  concerning  the  upoowiu2  of 
the  Son  with  the  Father  ;  yet  we  should  be  equally  unwilling  to  lim- 
it the  expression  to  a  bare  moral  agreement.  We  would,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  most  excellent  interpreters,  both  of  ancient  and  modern 
times,  refer  it  immediately  to  the  oneness  of  power,  which  the  Son 
has  with  the  Father.  And  yet  oneness  of  will  is  necessarily  involv- 
ed in  this;  for  in  no  respect  can  there  be  an  entire  oneness  of  ra- 
tional nature  with  God,  except  so  far  as  it  is  obtained  by  oneness  of 
will.  But  wherever  there  is  oneness  with  the  divine  will,  there  must 
also  be,  of  necessity,  perfect  freedom  from  sin.  "  For  how  can  he, 
in  whom  there  is  only  the  faintest  trace  of  sin  remaining,  say  that  he 
is  one  with  the  Father,  the  Father  of  light,  him  who  only  is  good 
and  pure,  and  to  whom  everything  approximates,  only  so  far  as  it 
partakes  of  goodness  and  purity.1'3  Indeed  sin  is  a  departure,  a 
separation  from  God,  a  turning  away  of  the  creature  from  his  holy 
Creator  ;4  but  where  oneness  with  God  is  asserted,  sin  is  at  the  same 
time  absolutely  denied.  So  is  it  with  the  words,  "  Whoso  seeth  me, 
seeth  the  Father  ;"  they  are  certainly  not  to  be  limited  to  this,  that 
we  find  something  God-like  in  Jesus,  as  we  can  also  find  it,  though 
connected  with  imperfection  and  sin,  in  every  other  man  ;  but  they 
are  to  be  understood  in  a  far  higher,  fuller  sense,  that  Jesus  is  spir- 
itually and  morally  an  image  of  God,  the  resplendence  of  the  Majes- 
ty on  high,  the  expression  of  the  divine  nature  within  the  restrictions 
of  a  human  life.    No  man  who  is  not  perfectly  good  and  pure  can  be 

1  John  10:  30.  14:  9. 

2  [Ullmann  here  refers  to  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  essential  oneness  with 
the  Father,  which  was  discussed  so  earnestly  during  the  Arian  contests  : 
ofioov'oiog  denoting  that  Christ  has  the  same  nature,  6/uoio-  otog  denoting  that 
he  has  a  simitar  nature,  and  avdfiowg  that  he  has  a  dissimilar  nature  with 
the  Father.— Tr.] 

3  Schleiermacher's  Feast-day  Sermons,  Vol.  I.  p.  97. 

4  Gregory  of  Nyssa  says,  "  Sin  is  estrangement  from  God,  who  is  the  true 
and  the  only  life."  And  Chrysostom  :  "  He  that  sins  is  far  from  God,  not 
in  place  but  in  disposition  "  More  of  the  like  passages  are  to  be  found  in 
Suicer,  Thesaurus  Eccl.  I.  p.  209. 


414  SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 

called  a  spiritual  image  of  God.  Where  sin  is  in  the  heart,  the  man 
is  not  holy  ;  where  the  man  is  holy,  sin  is  not  in  the  heart. 

It  is  a  matter,  then,  of  not  the  smallest  doubt,  that  Jesus  ascribed 
to  himself  entire  sinlessness,  holiness,  and  thereby  elevation  above 
all  mortals.1  If  we  will  not  receive  the  peculiarly  noble  testimony 
which  Jesus  gives  of  himself,  if  we  will  not  in  simplicity  confide  in 
his  high  declarations ;  there  is  left  us  nothing  but  the  fearful 
alternative  of  declaring  him  a  visionary,  or  an  impostor.    There  are 

1  The  question  here  arises,  whether  such  remarks  of  Jesus  as  are  quoted 
above,  are  not  contradicted  by  the  passage,  Matt.  19=  10,  17,  where,  in  reply 
to  the  question  of  the  young  man,  Good  master,  etc.,  Jesus  says,"  Why  call- 
est  thou  me  good,  there  is  none  good  but  one,  that  is,  God."  By  this  remark, 
Jesus  seems  to  decline  receiving  the  epithet  good,  without  qualification. 
We  will  not  avail  ourselves  of  the  different  reading  of  this  passage,  by  the 
adoption  of  which  the  difficulty  is  removed  ;  since  it  is  but  too  evident,  that 
this  new  reading  originated  in  the  design  of  removing  from  the  passage  its 
apparently  offensive  features  ;  and  at  all  events  the  same  expression  of  Jesus 
must  still  remain  in  the  parallel  passages,  Mark  10:  13.  Luke  18:  19.  But 
the  contradiction  is  removed,  when  we  properly  consider  the  circumstances 
and  the  relation  in  which  the  words  of  Jesus  were  spoken.  He  was  convers- 
ing with  a  man,  who,  although  striving  after  goodness,  was  yet  accustomed 
to  entertain  the  common  pharisaical  ideas  of  virtue,  and  was  not  a  little  sat- 
isfied with  his  own  perfect  obedience  to  the  law.  This  is  seen  by  his  asking, 
v.  20,  11  What  lack  I  yet?"  In  this  situation,  it  became  necessary  to  teach  him, 
first  of  all,  a  humbling  lesson  of  self-knowledge.  Jesus  does  this  directly 
by  his  own  example;  by  declining  the  title  of  good  master,  as  it  was  mis- 
used by  pharisaical  pride,  and  by  directing  the  inquirer,  in  the  most  signifi- 
cant way,  to  the  ideal  of  all  goodness  and  holiness,  to  the  only  fountain  of 
all  goodness,  to  God.  But  the  young  man  was  not  brought  to  a  knowledge 
of  himself  by  the  deep  signification  of  these  words,  and  therefore  the  heart- 
searching  teacher  took  a  yet  stronger  hold  of  his  conscience,  by  demanding 
of  him  a  sacrifice,  on  which  his  imagined  virtue  was  wrecked.  Thus  is  the 
apparent  offensiveness  of  the  passage  removed  by  reflecting  on  its  connec- 
tions. Jesus  is  exhibited  in  it  as  a  living,  instructive  image  of  humility  ;  he 
does  not  deny  that  he  is  good,  he  only  refuses  to  be  called  so,  in  the  style  of 
pompous  ceremony.  Why  callest  thou  me  good,  he  asks  ;  and,  speaking  as 
a  man  on  a  level  with  his  inquirer,  and  filled  with  holy  reverence  for  God, 
he  directs  the  man  to  Him,  who,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  is  the  on- 
ly good  one,  the  holy  one,  the  fountain  of  all  goodness.  In  so  far,  however, 
as  Jesus  is  not  separate  from  God  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  but  one  with 
him.  he  cannot  deny  that  he  is  purely  good.  He  constantly  derives  his 
goodness  however,  from  the  Father,  the  fountain  of  holiness.  It  were  well 
for  the  reader  to  consult  on  this  passage,  Grotius,  and  the  remarks  quoted 
by  him  from  the  older  theologians. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS.  41f> 

but  two  suppositions  which  we  can  make,  and  one  of  them  we  must 
defend.  The  first  is,  that  Jesus  was  not  very  especially  punctilious 
in  discriminating  good  from  evil,  that  he  had  not  searched  into  all 
the  recesses  of  his  own  heart,  had  not  known  all  the  movings  of  his 
will,  had  not  rigorously  examined  all  the  words  and  actions  of  his 
life,  and  must  therefore  have  been  in  a  mere  self-delusion,  when  he 
uttered  these  lofty  expressions.  But  how  can  this  be  conceivable  in 
a  mind,  which  in  other  respects  distinguished  between  good  and  evil 
with  unequalled  precision ;  which  reflected  upon  God  and  man  so 
clearly  and  purely  ;  which  looked  through  all  men,  even  to  their 
inmost  recesses,  and  on  all  moral  subjects  felt  with  such  inexpressi- 
ble tenderness  and  delicacy  ?  Must  he  not  have  known  directly  his 
own  self?  No  other  man,  even  the  most  contracted,  whose  moral 
sensibilities  were  most  imperfectly  developed,  would  entertain  a  sin- 
gle doubt  on  the  question,  whether  he  had  sinned  during  his  life  ; 
and  if  Jesus  had  sinned,  could  he  have  been  ignorant  of  the  fact  ? 
could  he,  in  fanatical  delirium,  have  exalted  himself  into  a  saint  ? — 
Or,  if  this  first  supposition  fail,  we  must  take  the  second,  that  Jesus 
was  inwardly  conscious  of  some  transgression  of  the  divine  law  in 
thought,  word  or  deed,  and  yet  testified  to  the  opposite  in  unambigu- 
ous language.  But  what  man  could  undertake  to  defend  the  posi- 
tion, that  he  who  had  labored,  in  all  the  scenes  of  his  life,  merely  for 
the  purest  conviction,  and  who  at  last  died  on  the  cross  for  the  truth, 
was  an  impostor,  a  mere  pretender  to  holiness  ? 

Since  then,  by  the  former  and  the  latter  of  these  suppositions,  we 
lose  ourselves  in  an  unreasonable  contradiction,  we  choose  to  con- 
fide in  the  simple  testimony  of  that  most  judicious  thinker,  and  mag- 
nanimous witness  of  the  truth,  even  though  the  testimony  cannot  be 
demonstrably  verified  by  mathematical  proof.  Many  of  the  noblest 
spiritual  blessings  that  we  possess,  we  obtain  and  enjoy  only  by  a 
free  spiritual  confidence  ;  by  faith,1  which  can  well  be  justified  as 
something  rational,  but  cannot  be  forced  upon  us  by  argument.  And 
m  indeed,  he  is  worthy  of  this  confidence  from  us,  whose  whole  activi- 
ty for  our  salvation  sprung  from  his  most  cheering  confidence  in  the 
susceptibility  of  our  nature  for  improvement.    Nothing  but  the  cer- 

1  It  scarcely  needs  to  be  remarked,  that  here  we  are  not  speaking  of  faith 
in  its  restricted  sense,  of  the  niang  which  Paul  describes;  but  of  the  moral 
faith  in  the  purity  and  divinity  of  the  spiritual  manifestations  of  Jesus,  which 
faith  is,  or  may  be  a  stepping-stone  to  the  n/oTig,  distinctively  so  called. 


•116 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


tainty,  that  the  nature  of  man,  weak  and  degenerate  though  it  be,  yet 
at  the  same  time  kindred  with  the  Divinity,  is  susceptible  of  even  the 
highest  elevation,  could  animate  him  to  begin  his  work  for  the  moral 
advancement  of  mankind  ;  and  nothing  but  the  firm  confidence,  that 
heavenly  virtue  would  at  last  triumph  among  men,  could  strengthen 
him  to  persevere  unto  the  end,  while  experiences,  the  most  bitter, 
seemed  to  announce  the  failure  of  his  great  schemes.  Of  all  mor- 
tals, not  one  has  found  such  malevolent  opposition  to  such  noble  en- 
deavors ;  not  one  has  had  stronger  outward  temptations  to  give  up 
all  faith  for  mankind,  and  not  one  has  clung  to  this  faith  with  so  holy 
an  enthusiasm,  even  to  the  latest  breath  of  life.  On  the  very  tree, 
upon  which  men  crucified  him,  he  did  not  despair  of  their  improve- 
ment, and  even  his  last  supplication  was  a  testimony  to  the  same  in- 
extinguishable confidence.  As  he  confided  in  our  moral  progress, 
so  we  can  approach  him  only  with  unmingled  confidence  in  himself ; 
and  as  all  trust  and  all  love  is  a  perfectly  free  product  of  a  noble 
sentiment,  raising  itself  above  the  hesitation  of  the  vulgar,  so  also  is 
the  spiritual  faith  in  Jesus.  It  demands  elevation  of  soul,  full  enthu- 
siasm for  the  divine  excellence  and  beauty  which  are  conspicuous 
in  the  words  and  deeds  of  Jesus,  a  warm-hearted,  confiding  sympa- 
thy with  the  love  that  is  shown  to  us  in  him. 


SECTION  VI. 

The  effects,  produced  by  Jesus,  prove  the  excellence  of  his  character. — Ef- 
fects produced  on  Paul,  on  other  individuals,  on  whole  communities. — 
Necessity  that  the  idea  of  perfect  excellence  should  have  a  realization. — 
Mode  in  which  the  excellence  of  Christ's  character  affects  our  own. — The 
bare  idea  of  Christ  insufficient  to  reform  men. — The  idea  of  perfect  excel- 
lence presupposes  an  archetype. — The  realization  of  this  idea  peculiar  to 
the  christian  history. — Ethical  sytern  of  Christ. 

Let  us  now  turn  our  attention  to  still  other  arguments,  which  tend 
to  establish  the  certainty  of  the  perfect  holiness  of  Jesus.  In  the 
first  place,  we  may  reason  from  what  Jesus  did  to  what  he  was. 
Such  deeds  as  his  have  never  yet  been  performed  by  a  human  be- 
ing ;  the  motive-power  then,  from  which  they  originated,  must  be 
altogether  peculiar  in  its  kind.    The  view,  which  we  are  taking, 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


417 


requires  only  a  brief  notice  of  what  he  did  in  the  moral  world.  We 
here  see,  that  it  was  a  new  spiritual  creation  which  came  forth  from 
the  fulness  of  his  quickening  spirit,  and  that  he  established  a  system 
which  from  its  indwelling  energy  works  on  forever.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  Christianity,  in  this  view,  can  boldly  confront  every  other 
philosophical  system,  or  religious  institution,  and  maintain  the  pre- 
eminence ;  for  wherever  it  has  prevailed  in  its  true  spirit,  it  has 
really  and  fundamentally  transformed  men,  communities  as  well  as 
individuals,  from  bad  to  good. 

We  can  here  say  but  little.  One  example  of  the  creative  moral 
power  of  Christianity  upon  an  individual  is  the  apostle  Paul.  His 
whole  nature  was  truly  an  immediate  production  of  the  spirit  of 
Christ,  so  that  he  could  say, '  I  live  ;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in 
me.'  When  we  contemplate  this  man,  as  full  of  impassioned  effi- 
ciency and  yet  full  of  cool  discretion,  he  is  restlessly  at  work  for  a 
spiritual  object ;  as  he  couples  vigorous  earnestness  and  manly 
strength  with  the  tenderest  mildness ;  as  his  deep  spirit  overflows 
with  love,  yet  without  becoming  soft  and  weak  ;  as  he  is  able  to  ac- 
commodate himself  to  all  conditions,  bear  all  things,  hope  for  all 
things,  joyfully  deny  himself  all  things,  even  such  as  are  lawful ;  as 
he  lets  his  own  personal  interest  fade  entirely  from  his  view,  so  that 
he  may  labor  for  the  invisible  kingdom  of  God,  and  live  for  a  cruci- 
fied man,  who  was  rejected  by  the  world,  and  yet  in  the  knowledge 
of  whom  he  had  found  the  highest  good,  and  would  willingly  impart 
this  good  to  all  men  ;  when  we  thus  contemplate  him,  we  cannot  de- 
ny, that  he  was  one  of  the  greatest,  most  efficient,  most  spiritual 
men,  who  have  ever  stepped  foot  on  the  earth.  And  when  we  con- 
sider how  wild,  fanatical,  eager  to  persecute,  narrow-hearted,  and 
pharisaical  he  had  previously  been,  we  see  represented  most  vividly 
in  him,  the  true  import  of  being  made  by  Christianity  a  new  creature, 
and  we  must  wonder,  in  the  highest  degree,  at  the  moral  power  of 
the  Gospel.  To  Paul  are  to  be  added  the  other  apostles,  all  harmo- 
nizing in  essential  feelings,  yet  all  retaining  their  natural  peculiari- 
ties ;  and  after  them  Origen,  Chrysostom,  Augustine,  Huss,  Lu- 
ther, Zuinglius,  Melancthon,  Fenelon,  Spener,  and  many  other  no- 
ble, sanctified  spirits,  persecuted  witnesses  of  the  truth,  champions 
for  the  divine  prerogative,  and  for  true  freedom  ;  who,  each  in  his 
own  way,  according  to  his  own  individuality,  exhibited  in  its  living 
power,  the  everlasting  spirit  of  the  christian  system. 

53 


418 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


And  as  upon  the  individual,  so  has  Christianity  operated  most 
benignantly  upon  the  mass.  It  has  everywhere  softened  the  man- 
ners, and  elevated  the  domestic  and  public  relations ;  it  has  given  to 
sense  a  direction  to  the  invisible,  and  a  sure  holding-point  upon  the 
eternal.  It  has  introduced  into  life  the  idea  of  humanity,  and  the 
recognition  of  human  worth  ;  it  has  abolished  or  at  least  equalized  the 
wide  distinctions  of  caste,  class,  and  nation  ;  it  has  increased  to  an 
almost  indefinite  extent  the  interest  of  man  in  man  ;  it  has  united  all 
its  adherents  with  the  spiritual  family  bonds  of  uncorrupted  humanity  ; 
has  established  a  covenant,  invisible,  but  so  much  the  more  inwardly 
and  closely  binding,  between  the  souls  of  men  ;  and  by  providing 
that  God  be  served  morally,  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  it  has  destroyed, 
in  the  root  and  forever,  the  service  of  nature,  the  dependence  on  ex- 
ternal forms,  and  the  religion  of  bare  law.  But  all  these  and 
numerous  other  influences  of  the  Christian  system  proceed  at  first 
from  one  central  point :  and  this  is  none  other  than  the  manifesta- 
tion that  Jesus  made  of  his  inward  character  ;J  he  being  purely  good 
and  holy,  the  ever  animating,  creative  image  of  moral  perfection. 
For  although  we  are  far  from  desiring  to  place  in  the  shade  the  high 
importance  and  utility  of  Christ's  instructions,  and  especially  of  the 
moral  part  of  them,  yet  we  cannot  deny,  after  an  unprejudiced 
historical  examination,  that  the  most  peculiar  and  the  deepest  moral 
influences  of  Christianity  must  be  traced  back  directly  to  the  person 
of  Jesus ;  and  that  his  teaching  had  its  true  power  and  full  meaning, 
only  in  inseparable  connection  with  his  personal  character.2  In  this 
respect  also,  as  in  so  many  others,  there  is  in  Christianity  a  pre- 
eminence worthy  of  its  divine  original, — it  reveals  its  purest  ideas 
and  most  elevated  principles  in  combination  with  its  facts ;  it  connects 

1  [This  manifestation  of  Christ's  character  includes  all  his  acts,  and  em- 
phatically that  act,  by  which  the  atonement  was  made. — Tr.] 

2  Luther  says,  indeed,  in  the  preface  to  his  Translation  of  the  JNew  Testa- 
ment :  "  If  1  were  obliged  to  give  up  one  of  these  two,  the  works  or  the 
discourses  of  Jesus,  I  would  give  up  the  works  more  willingly  than  the  dis- 
courses ;  for  the  works  help  me  not,  but,  as  himself  says,  his  words,  they 
give  life."  But  the  actively  devoted  Luther  would  surely  not  have  been 
able  to  spare  the  life  of  Christ ;  we  can  no  more  part  with  the  one  than  with 
the  other ;  the  words  contain  light,  the  works  have  the  power ;  the  word 
without  the  work  would  be  inefficient,  the  work  without  the  word  would  be 
unintelligible  ;  both  are  requisite  for  the  production  of  true  christian  life, 
and  therefore  both  are  exhibited  in  the  Bible. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


419 


together,  in  the  most  fitting  way,  the  ideal  and  the  realization  of  it ; 
it  exhibits  a  spirit  and  at  the  same  time  a  living  incarnation  of  that 
spirit.  Not  theory,  but  life,  produces  life.  The  noblest  christian 
characters  have  not  been  formed  by  the  rules  of  the  Gospel,  so 
much  as  by  receiving  into  themselves  the  life  of  Christ,  as  it  is  por- 
trayed in  historical  reality,  and  in  fulness  of  spiritual  power ;  so 
much  as  by  living  in  Christ,  becoming  like  him,  having  him,  as  the 
apostle  says,1  formed  within  them.2  This  is  the  essential  thing,  that 
Jesus  not  only  taught,  but  also  exhibited  a  truly  God-like  character, 
and  from  this  central  point  of  his  spiritual  nature,  which  was 
perfect  as  a  pattern,  and  yet  historically  real,  from  this  representa- 
tion of  divinity  in  uncorrupted  humanity,  there  streams  forth  on  all 
sides  power  and  life  ;  a  fresh  spiritual  motion  extends  itself  over  our 
race,  in  ever  widening  circles.  If  we  take  away  this  fountain,  the 
perfect  holiness  and  uncontaminated  purity  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  then 
the  moral  influences  of  his  religion  become  perfectly  inexplicable 
to  us ;  there  would  be  an  extraordinary  effect  without  a  sufficient 
cause ;  actually  new  life  sprung  from  a  bare  semblance  of  life ;  the 
noblest  truth  originating  from  a  fancy  :  the  historical  establishment 
of  Christianity  would  be  unaccountable,  and  the  whole  noble  struc- 
ture would  rest  on  a  hollow  base.  As  these  things  cannot  be  ra- 
tionally admitted,  so  that  central  point,  the  perfect  purity  and  holi- 
ness of  Christ's  character,  must  be  considered  as  an  historical  reality, 
as  true  and  undeniable.  Thus  the  existence  of  the  christian  church, 
together  with  the  good  which  is  done  in  it  and  by  it,  testifies  for  the 
holiness  of  its  founder. 

This  we  can  the  more  positively  assert,  because  the  moral  in- 
fluence of  Christianity  still  extends  to  us,  and  because  our  own  in- 
ward experience  springs  from  that  energetic  power,  which  works  at 
the  very  heart  of  the  christian  system,  and  which  consists  in  the 
character  of  the  Messiah.  Indeed  essentially  the  same  influences, 
which  were  exerted  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  are  still  exerted 
upon  us  by  the  spirit  and  the  life  of  Jesus  ;  and  they  must  be  exerted, 
for  otherwise  there  would  be  no  oneness  in  the  nature  of  Christianity, 
no  inward  coherence  in  the  company  of  Christians,  and  the  agency 
of  Jesus  would  have  no  truly  universal  characteristics.  Redemption 

1  [See  this  idea  more  fully  illustrated  in  Erskine  on  Int.  Evid.,  particularly 
Sections  III.  IV.— Tr.] 

2  [Gal.  4:  19.  also  Col.  1:  27,  and  perhaps  Col.  3:  10.— Tr.] 


420 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


cannot  have  been  a  different  thing  with  the  apostles,  from  what  it  is 
with  us  ;  the  redeeming  power  must  therefore  be  ever  the  same  in 
its  influence.  It  was  not  the  bare  teaching,  nor  the  bare  death  of 
Jesus,  but  in  inseparable  connection  with  both,  his  redeeming,  that 
is,  his  spiritually  emancipating  life,  which  was  efficacious  in  the 
days  of  the  apostles.  We  must  therefore  conclude  that  the  simple 
and  artless  scriptural  exhibition  of  this  life,  from  which  the  spirit  of 
Christ  breathes  upon  us,  will  exert  the  same  influence  upon  our 
minds,  which  the  personal  observation  of  it  exerted  upon  his  disciples 
and  their  contemporaries.  We  of  course  include  under  the  life  of 
Jesus,  the  circumstances  of  his  death,  in  the  significancy  which  is 
assigned  to  that  death  by  Jesus  himself  and  the  apostles,  as  the  close 
of  his  redeeming  life,  and  as  absolutely  essential  for  completing  the 
work  of  redemption.  The  mode  in  which  this  life  operates  upon  us 
is  the  same  now  as  it  was  at  first ;  it  is  essentially  the  following. 
By  a  trustful  meditation  upon  the  whole  character  of  Jesus,  and  by 
applying  it  to  our  own  moral  and  religious  nature,  we  are  in  the 
first  place,  brought  to  a  knowledge  of  our  great  distance  from 
Christ,  and  to  a  severe  condemnation  of  our  moral  state.  In  the 
next  place,  we  are  lifted  up  above  the  feeling  of  our  sins  and  defi- 
ciencies ;  freed  from  the  painful  consciousness  of  guilt,  which  sepa- 
rates us  from  God,  the  Holy  One ;  brought  into  a  most  intimate 
connection  with  an  all-loving  Father ;  and  filled  with  new  strength 
for  a  better  life,  by  the  consciousness  of  a  pure,  divinely  imparted 
freedom,  of  a  serene  peace  within  our  own  hearts.  This  power, 
which  can  emancipate  our  wills,  which  can  elevate  and  compose, 
which  in  fine  can  redeem,  is  possessed  by  no  other  object ;  by  no 
word,  no  doctrine,  no  idea,  no  moral  exhibition,  even  of  the  most 
noble  and  excellent  kind  ;  but  only  by  the  life  and  works  of  Jesus, 
considered  as  a  whole.  Depending  however  on  the  development  of 
Christ's  character,  and  attested  by  the  experience  of  every  Christian, 
the  power  is  necessarily  derived  and  inseparable  from  the  unspotted 
holiness  of  the  Messiah's  conduct.  None  but  a  nature  which  stands 
before  us  in  full  purity,  can  exercise  over  us  this  spiritual  influence  ; 
none  but  he,  in  whom  the  truth  itself,  which  emancipates  the  soul, 
has  at  the  same  time  been  exhibited  as  perfect  virtue,  and  has  tri- 
umphed spiritually  over  all  opposition,  can  make  us  thoroughly  free  ; 
only  one,  elevated  above  us,  and  above  sin,  can  elevate  us  above 
ourselves  and  above  sin ;  only  by  the  most  intimate  communion  of 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


our  souls  with  a  holy  being,  can  the  power  of  holiness  live  and  con- 
stantly strengthen  within  us,  and  the  power  of  sin  be  forever  extir- 
pated from  our  natures.  But  if  we  think  of  Jesus  as  not  morally 
pure,  as  stained  with  guilt,  then,  however  small  the  degree  of  that 
guilt,  all  these  effects  cease  ;  no  longer  as  a  Redeemer  from  sin 
does  he  satisfy  our  cravings  ;  he  becomes  only  a  teacher  and  prophet 
to  us  ;  and  that  the  longing  of  our  souls  may  be  appeased,  we  must 
wait  for  another,  who  may  at  last  exhibit  to  us  a  life,  fully  pure, 
truly  pleasing  to  God  and  conformed  in  all  respects  to  the  divine 
will.  But  such  a  longing  desire  cannot  be  felt  by  one,  who  has 
actually  known  Jesus  ;  he  finds  himself  really  emancipated,  renewed, 
fully  comforted  by  the  Saviour ;  he  possesses  in  Jesus  everything 
which  can  supply  his  spiritual  wants.  His  belief,  then,  in  the  un- 
spotted holiness  of  Christ  must  involve  a  strong  assurance  ;  for  with- 
out this  sinlessness,  Christ  could  have  no  power  to  redeem.  As 
certainly  as  he  is  our  Redeemer,  so  certainly  must  he  be  free  from 
all  transgression. 

One  may  indeed  reply  to  this,  that  the  bare  idea  of  a  sinless  and 
holy  life  would  produce  the  same  effects  as  the  realization  of  it ; 
more  especially  since  such  a  life  does  not  now  come  to  us  as  a  mat- 
ter of  experience  properly,  but  as  a  mere  conception  of  the  intellect, 
and  is  thereby  presented  to  us  in  an  ideal  form.  We  will  not  here 
insist  on  the  fact,  that  a  bare  idea  never  possesses  the  living  power 
of  truth,  and  that  faith  in  the  innocency  of  Jesus  produces  no  effect 
so  far  as  it  is  faith  in  an  idea,  but  only  so  far  as  it  is  faith  in  a  matter 
of  fact,  in  the  realization  of  what  was  conceived.  We  will  say, 
however,  that  whenever  we  trace  this  idea  up  to  its  source,  we 
always  come  back  again  to  the  matter  of  fact,  to  the  historical  ex- 
hibition ;  and,  as  it  has  been  already  proved,  the  representation  of 
Christ's  immaculate  life  did  not  originate  from  the  previous  idea  of 
perfect  holiness,  but  this  idea  originated  from  the  actual  previous 
observation  of  an  immaculate  life.  The  general  remarks  of  the 
sacred  writers  on  the  perfect  virtue  of  Jesus  would  lose  their  peculiar 
power  over  the  feelings,  if  these  writers  did  not  also  describe  to  us, 
in  detail,  and  with  such  striking,  irresistible  truth, — if  they  did  not 
even  bring  into  our  ideal  presence  the  pure  motives  and  holy  con- 
duct of  the  Messiah. 

If,  looking  away  from  any  particular  case,  we  fix  our  attention 
upon  the  idea  of  a  life  entirely  pure,  holy,  and  pleasing  to  God,  we 


422 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


shall  find  it  evident,  that  there  is  such  an  idea  in  our  minds ;  and 
that,  for  this  very  reason,  it  must,  at  some  stage  of  moral  progress 
develop  itself  in  the  minds  of  all.  Even  this  circumstance  assures 
us,  that  the  idea  will  be  also  realized ;  for  every  conception,  that 
slumbers  in  our  minds,  presupposes  somewhere  and  somehow  an 
existing  object  of  it,  points  to  a  corresponding  reality.  The  idea  is 
by  no  means  a  bare  fancy,  a  shadow  without  a  substance.1  All  our 
moral  efforts  depend  in  fact,  whether  we  are  more  or  less  conscious 
of  it,  upon  the  idea  of  perfection  ;  and  everything  which  we  desire 
or  do,  in  the  province  of  morality,  has  necessary  reference  to  this 
idea.  As  moral  beings,  we  cannot  be  without  the  conviction,  that  a 
state  of  feeling  and  of  conduct  is  possible,  in  which  all  the  excellen- 
ces that  human  nature  can  admit,  are  united  in  one  inseparable  and 
noble  whole,  and  all  weaknesses  are  excluded  ;  a  state  which,  on 
this  account,  corresponds  perfectly  with  the  will  of  Him  who  is  the 
only  good  one  ;  with  the  design  of  God  in  respect  to  man ;  and 
which,  because  it  presupposes  the  purest  harmony  of  our  existence, 
necessarily  includes  in  itself  such  elements,  as  will  make  our  ex- 
istence perfectly  blessed.  This  state,  so  far  as  we  are  in  any  de- 
gree holy,  we  always  endeavor  to  attain  ;  yea,  the  attainment  of  it 
is  commanded  by  our  consciences.  If  now,  oppressed  as  we  are 
with  so  many  faults  and  imperfections,  internal  and  external,  we 
must  despair  of  reaching  this  high  mark,  at  least  in  our  present 
course,  we  may  yet  hold  fast  the  lively  wish  to  see  this  perfection 
attained  by  some  related  nature,  and  to  see  the  ideal  of  sinless  vir- 
tue realized.    It  cannot  but  afford  us  the  most  heartfelt  satisfaction 


1  [Such  statements  as  the  foregoing  seem  to  be  more  scholastic  than  just. 
It  is,  however,  by  no  means  an  unimportant  thought,  that  there  is  a  harmony 
between  our  idea  of  human  perfection,  our  desire  to  see  it  developed,  and 
the  actual  development  of  it  in  Christ.  The  supposition  of  his  perfect  vir- 
tue has  that  peculiar  fitness  to  our  intellectual  and  moral  wants,  which,  if 
not  itself  an  a  priori  argument  for  the  truth  of  the  supposition,  may  still  cor- 
roborate other  arguments,  as  well  as  predispose  the  inquirer  to  receive  them. 
Though  the  German  mind  is  apt  to  go  too  far  in  reasoning  from  the  corres- 
pondences between  our  inward  conceptions  or  feelings,  and  certain  outward 
events,  it  may  be  a  question  whether  the  American  mind  is  disposed  to  go 
far  enough.  Notice,  for  example,  our  general  neglect  of  the  moral  argu- 
ments for  the  existence  of  God,  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  etc. ;  such 
arguments  as  are  founded  on  the  coincidence  between  these  truths,  and  our 
natural  hopes  and  fears. — Tk.] 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


423 


and  joy,  if  the  moral  perfection,  the  agreement  of  a  whole  human 
nature  with  the  divine  goodness  be  anywhere  exhibited  to  us  in  life. 
This  is  the  actual  fact  in  the  exhibition  of  the  character  of  Christ. 
In  this  character  is  realized  the  highest  idea  of  the  human  spirit,  that 
of  the  purely  good.  The  true  and  the  beautiful  cannot  indeed  be 
separated  from  such  a  life  ;  and  yet  by  its  goodness  alone  a  no- 
ble and  deep  necessity  of  our  nature  is  satisfied.  And  as  our  intel- 
lect demands  an  exhibition  of  a  perfect  religious  character,  so  our 
heart  longs  after  an  entirely  pure  and  faultless  object  of  attachment ; 
after  an  object  in  which  there  would  be  nothing  which  could,  from 
time  to  time,  injure  and  wound  our  moral  feeling,  and  thus  weaken 
and  cloud  our  love,  as  all  even  the  best  of  human  love  is  frequently 
interrupted  ;  after  an  object  in  which  the  highest  feeling  of  self-sac- 
rificing benevolence  is  connected  with  a  faultless  morality,  and  which 
must  elicit  from  us  a  reciprocated  attachment,  an  attachment  that  is 
pure  and  debased  by  no  false  admixture.  This  object  of  truly  per- 
fect and  unfeigned  love  we  possess  in  Christ,  inasmuch  as  his  reli- 
gious character  is  unexceptionably  pure,  and  contains  nothing  which 
can  offend  our  moral  consciousness.1  So  then  the  supposition  of 
Christ's  unspotted  virtue  is  sustained  by  the  fact,  that  such  a  sup- 
position meets  our  highest  spiritual  necessities,  which  without  it 
must  remain  unsatisfied,  and  that  it  realizes  to  man  the  very  thing 
toward  which  his  noblest  efforts  have  been  directed,  but  which  he 
cannot  produce  from  his  own  resources. 

That  the  idea  of  an  entirely  pure  moral  life  is  distinctly  developed 
by  real  occurrences,  by  the  historical  manifestations  of  Jesus,  that  it 
can  be  developed  by  nothing  else,  appears  evident  from  the  fact,  that 
though  the  idea  was  previously  slumbering  in  our  minds,  yet  it  was 
never  clearly  expressed,  until  Christ's  appearance.  It  is  a  very  re- 
markable truth,  that  the  idea  of  a  holiness  which  is  entirely  perfect 
and  free  from  fault,  was  never  entertained  in  the  world  before  Christ, 
nor  in  the  heathen  world,  either  before  or  after.2    One  may  indeed 

1  Compare  Schleiermacher's  Christian  Feast-day  Sermons,  Vol.  I.  pp.  99 
—104. 

2  As  the  idea  and  the  word  denoting  it  are  intimately  connected,  it  will 
not  be  improper  to  say  here  something  about  the  expressions  avajuagrTjoia 
and  avafjLdqrrjTog.  They  are,  it  is  true,  established  terms  in  the  ancient  clas- 
sical style,  but  do  not  signify  such  an  entire  fulness  of  moral  perfection  in 
the  classical,  as  they  do  in  the  christian  usage.    3 AvaixaQtrjrog  means  one 


424 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


refer  to  intimations  of  this  idea,  as  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  philoso- 
phize upon  ethical  subjects  without  approximating  to  it ;  but  the  idea 
could  not  attain  a  complete  development  in  the  heathen  world  for 
two  reasons.  First,  the  heathen  intellect  had  not  yet  apprehended 
the  fundamental  principle,  to  which  Christianity  raises  the  mind, 
that  virtue  is  something  altogether  internal,  springing  from  the  pur- 
est love.  Secondly,  the  morality  of  the  ancient  pagans  was  defi- 
cient in  its  religious  features,  yea  even  their  religious  faith  operated 
injuriously  upon  the  moral  life.  But  even  if  the  idea  of  a  perfectly 
pure  and  holy  moral  character  could  be  found  among  the  heathen, 
still  no  example  can  be  adduced,  in  which  this  idea  was  believed  to 
be  realized  in  any  one  person.  Such  an  example  would  be  looked 
for,  first  of  all,  in  the  wisest  of  the  Greeks,  in  Socrates  ;  but  although 
we  have  such  excellent  descriptions  of  this  great  man  from  two  re- 

who  cannot  sin,  as  well  as  one  who  does  not  actually  sin.  In  the  first  sense, 
the  word  is  used  by  Plato,  de  Republ.  1.  IIot&qov  Se  dva/ud()T?]Toi  aioiv  ol  ao- 
%0VTtg,  7]  oioi  rs  xcu  d[j,aqrdvuv.  Here,  from  its  being  opposed  to  oiog  dfiaQ- 
rdvsiVj  it  is  evident  that  dvafj,d(jrtjxog  involves  the  impossibility  of  sinning. 
In  the  other  sense  the  word  is  used  by  Xenophon,  'Oqoj  ydg  tojv  dv&Qomvjv 
ovSiva  dvafj,dQTi]Tov  BiareXovvra.  With  the  same  double  signification  is 
dvafiaQtrjaia  also  used  by  the  ancients,  and  is  then  translated  into  the  Latin 
by  the  word,  impeccabilitas,  (at  least  Aulus  Gellius  has  the  word,  impecca- 
bilis),  and  again  by  the  word,  impeccantia,  (Jerome).  Many  passages  from 
the  ancients  may  be  found  collected  together  in  Henr.  Stephani  Thesaur. 
Ling.  Gr.  II.  p.  1920.  ed.  Lond. — Among  christian  authors,  we  find  the  ex- 
pression avatua.QTT](}la,  at  first  used  by  Clement  of  Alexandria  in  the  sense 
of  ceasing,  withdrawing  from  sin,  and  in  this  meaning  it  was  applied  to  the 
moral  condition  of  men  in  general:  Stromat.  Lib.  II.  p.  371.  Lib.  IV.  p. 
482.  ^Ava/xdQTriTos,  however,  is  also  used  by  Clement  in  the  stricter  sense 
of  sinless  ;  [tovog  dva^dqtritog  avxog  6  Xoyog ;  Paedag.  111.  12.  It  is,  howe- 
ver, used  by  later  christian  writers  in  the  sense  of  absolute  freedom  from 
sin  ;  of  pure,  holy  sinlessness  ;  and  in  this  sense  is  applied  only  to  God  and 
Christ.  The  Fathers  of  the  church  ascribe  sinless  purity  only  to  God,  (Isi- 
dor.  Pelus.  Epist.  Lib.  1.  p.  435  ;  to  dvajudpryxov  fiovov  tori  &sov),  and  also 
to  Christ,  so  far  as  he  is  partaker  of  the  divine  nature.  They  therefore  treat 
of  sinlessness  as  a  property,  not  of  the  human,  but  of  the  divine  nature  of 
the  Redeemer.  They  also  lay  great  stress  on  the  thought  that,  without  be- 
ing dvafid()T7]Tog,  Jesus  could  not  have  been  the  Redeemer  of  mankind. 
For  example,  Chrysostom  in  the  38th  Homily  on  the  first  Epistle  to  the  Co- 
rinthians, says,  "  He  who  died  for  sinners  must  himself  be  sinless;  for  if  he 
himself  sinned,  how  could  he  die  for  other  sinners  ? — but  if  he  died  for  the 
sins  of  others,  he  died  being  sinless  himself."  Various  proofs  for  what  is 
advanced  above,  may  be  r.-und  in  Suiceri  Thesaur.  Eccles.  I.  pp.  287,  288. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


425 


vering  pupils,  yet  neither  of  these  pupils,  nor  indeed  any  other  one, 
has  expressed  the  opinion,  that  he  was  free  from  all  moral  failings 
and  perfect  in  all  respects.1  This  idea  of  perfect  holiness,  as  in  its 
accurate  development,  so  in  the  certainty  of  its  having  been  real- 
ized in  human  nature,  is  an  excellence  that  distinguishes  Christian- 
ity, not  only  above  heathenism,  but  also  above  all  other  religious  and 
philosophical  systems.  The  fact  too,  that  the  idea  is  so  accurately 
and  clearly  developed  only  in  the  christian  system,  proves  the  histo- 
rical truth  of  its  having  been  embodied  in  Christ.  If  it  had  sprung 
merely  from  an  attempt  to  glorify  a  great  man,  or  the  founder  of  a 
religion,  why  was  not  the  same  representation  made  elsewhere  ? 
And  how  could  it  have  been  made  in  express  reference  to  Jesus, 
and  made  with  such  precision  and  steadiness,  unless  there  had  been 
a  sure  ground  for  it  in  his  life  ?  We  cannot  resist  the  belief,  that 
he  who  produced  the  steadfast  conviction  upon  the  minds  of  his  con- 
temporaries, that  his  virtue  was  throughout  pure  and  holy,  in  fact 
was  a  decidedly  perfect  man ;  and  we  must  look  upon  the  extraor- 
dinary, and  to  this  day  undiminished,  vital  influences  of  this  belief, 
as  a  testimony  in  favor  of  its  inward  correctness. 

There  is  yet  one  more  point  to  be  briefly  touched.  There  may 
be  adduced,  in  proof  of  the  sinless  character  of  Jesus,  the  irreproach- 
able truth  and  purity  of  his  ethical  system.  This  system  is  most  as- 
suredly of  such  a  character,  that  it  receives  its  full  and  unlimited 
confirmation  in  our  own  conscience.  It  is  in  the  principle  that  ani- 
mates it,  and  in  all  its  individual  parts,  so  pure  and  just  that  it 
must  be  pronounced  unimprovable.  But  such  faultless  ethics  can 
be  the  product  only  of  a  faultless,  unpolluted  spirit.  From  none  but 
a  healthy  root  is  good  fruit  obtained  ;  and  as  a  holy  moral  sentiment 
pervades  the  whole  gospel,  so  must  it  have  lived  originally  in  the  au- 
thor of  that  gospel. 


1  The  only  passage,  so  far  as  I  know,  which  can  be  mentioned  in  support 
of  the  contrary  position,  is  one  in  Xenophon's  Memorabilia.  Lib.  1.  Cap.  I. 
§  11  :  "  No  one  ever  saw  Socrates  doing,  or  heard  him  saying,  anything 
profane  or  wicked."  But  from  the  whole  scope  of  this  apology,  and  particu- 
larly from  what  immediately  precedes,  it  is  evident  that  the  author  is  here 
speaking  of  mere  legality,  so  far  as  it  becomes  known  by  outward  acts  and 
words,  and  not  of  morality  in  the  highest  sense  of  that  term.  [For  the  phi- 
losophical distinction  between  the  terms,  legality  and  morality,  see  note  B. 
— Tr.] 

54 


426 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


If  we  glance  over  the  whole  preceding  investigation,  we  shall  find 
that  the  hatred  of  Christ's  enemies,  the  conduct  of  those  indifferent 
toward  him,  the  acknowledgement  of  his  betrayer,  the  love  and  re- 
verence of  his  friends,  a  love  and  reverence  inextinguishable  and 
sealed  with  death,  and  lastly  the  most  noble  consciousness  which 
Christ  had  of  his  own  rectitude  ;  all  these  are  a  testimony  in  favor 
of  his  spiritual  excellence  and  pure  holiness,  such  as  history  gives  of 
no  other  man.  This  testimony  is  strongly  confirmed  by  the  spiritual 
effects,  altogether  peculiar  in  kind,  which  have  been  wrought  by  Jesus, 
and  which  are  still  exemplified  to  us  in  living  experience.  It  is  also 
confirmed  by  the  adaptedness  of  his  immaculate  character,  to  the 
noblest  and  otherwise  unsatisfied  wants  of  our  mind  and  heart ;  by 
the  striking  preeminence  of  the  christian,  above  all  other  religions ; 
and  by  the  stainless  purity  of  the  evangelical  system  of  morals. 

There  is  a  doubt,  however,  which  threatens  to  rob  us  of  the  histo- 
rical and  well-grounded  conviction,  that  Jesus  was  strictly  sinless. 
The  doubt  is  produced  by  various  objections,  which  we  must  now 
clear  up  thoroughly.  Otherwise,  we  can  make  no  advance  with  a 
sure  step. 


SECTION  VII. 

Objections  alleged  against  the  character  of  Christ  by  his  contemporaries. — 
Objections  drawn  from  his  cursing  the  fig-tree  ;  from  his  destroying  the 
swine  ;  from  his  expelling  the  traders  ;  from  his  going  up  to  the  feast, 
after  he  had  been  understood  to  decline  going;  from  the  history  of  the 
temptation. — Various  theories  in  reference  to  the  temptation. 

The  objections,  first  to  be  considered,  which  were  made  by  the 
contemporaries  of  Jesus  against  his  uncorrupted  virtue,  though  we 
would  not  entirely  pass  them  by,  are  yet  insignificant.  Yea  more, 
on  a  narrow  inspection,  they  turn  themselves  into  pleasing  proofs  of 
the  true  spirituality  and  perfectness  of  his  moral  life.  This  is  the 
case  with  the  objections,  that  he  would  not,  like  the  Pharisees  and 
even  John  the  Baptist,  zealously  fast,  and  live  austerely  abstinent, 
but  would  eat  and  drink  as  other  men,  and  was  therefore  a  glutton 
and  a  wine-bibber  ;  that  he  received  into  his  society  publicans  and 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


427 


sinners,  and  sat  at  table  with  them ;  that  he  could  not  be  from  God, 
because  he  did  not  keep  the  Sabbath  perfectly,  but  healed  the  sick 
on  that  day,  and  permitted  his  disciples  to  pluck  the  ears  of  corn. 

It  was  in  opposition  to  just  such  narrow-hearted  charges,  that 
Christ  unfolded,  by  word  and  deed,  the  great  principles  of  a  morality, 
that  was  generous,  and  that  sprung  from  the  fountain  of  divine  love  ; 
a  morality  by  which  the  free-born  gospel  is  raised  far,  far  above 
all  moral  servitude,  and  every  form  of  self-righteousness.  It  was  in 
just  such  circumstances  that  he  found  occasion,  both  to  prove  the 
serenity,  which  belongs  to  a  life  that  is  pleasing  to  God, — a  serenity 
that  is  cheerful,  disturbed  by  no  asceticism  that  pains  the  body,  but 
enjoying  all  things  temperately  and  thankfully  ;  and  also  to  com- 
municate and  apply  those  simple  instructions  of  his,  which  contain 
in  an  appropriate  and  individual  form  elevated  and  eternal  truths. 
I  allude,  for  example,  to  such  instructions  as  the  following  ;  that  true 
morality  lies  in  feeling  ;  that  love  is  something  more  than  a  sacrifice, 
and  an  outward  fulfilling  of  the  law ;  that  the  Sabbath  was  made  for 
man,  and  not  man  for  the  Sabbath  ;  and  more  of  the  like  nature. 

In  respect  also  to  some  other  acts  of  Jesus,  which  the  evangelists 
describe  with  entire  impartiality,  and  without  intimating  that  they 
might  contain  anything  offensive,  every  difficulty  vanishes  as  soon  as 
we  survey  the  acts  from  the  right  point  of  sight.  Thus  the  proce- 
dure of  Jesus,  in  cursing  the  fig-tree,1  has  appeared  to  many  to  be 
of  questionable  character  ;  not  so  much  because  he  allowed  himself 
to  make  an  encroachment  upon  the  property  of  another  man,  for  no 
one  can  prove  that  the  tree  actually  belonged  to  any  one ;  but  be- 
cause it  seems  as  if  Jesus  was  so  much  irritated  by  the  impossibility 
of  his  gratifying  the  wants  of  the  instant,  that  he  gave  vent  to  his 
rage  by  cursing  an  innocent  tree.  But  we  shall  evidently  form  a 
very  erroneous  conception  of  Jesus,  if  we  think  of  him  as  passion- 
ately excited  in  this  transaction.  He  performed  in  this,  as  well  as  in 
other  instances,  a  deed  of  cool  discretion.  He  desired  to  furnish  an 
example  by  word  and  act.  He  desired,  it  may  be,  as  was  common 
with  him  and  the  orientals  generally,  to  invest  his  deed  with  a  sym- 
bolical character ;  either  to  make  it  the  means  of  calling  attention, 
at  this  important  time,  to  the  certain  ruin  of  the  Jewish  nation,  which 
was  now  spiritually  unfruitful ;  or  else,  as  seems  more  probable 
from  the  instructive  words  which  he  added,  to  make  the  act  a  re- 


1  Matt.  21:  17—22,  Mark  11:  11—26. 


428 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


newed  proof,  to  his  friends,  of  his  exalted  and  perfect  power,  and  a 
new  means  of  strengthening  their  confidence  in  himself  and  God,  in 
view  of  the  dangers  that  threatened. 

It  were  more  reasonable  to  charge  the  Saviour  with  the  crime  of 
encroaching  upon  another's  property,  in  that  remarkable  act  which 
he  performed  within  the  territory  of  the  Gadarenes.1  The  miracle 
of  healing,  which  he  wrought  here  upon  one  or  two  demoniacs  was 
immediately  connected  with  a  loss,  more  or  less  important,  to  the  in- 
habitants of  the  country.  Almost  every  commentator  on  this  pas- 
sage has  thought  it  needful  to  frame  an  apology  for  Jesus  ;  and,  as 
might  have  been  expected,  the  issue  of  this  has  been  various,  as 
men,  in  looking  at  the  Messiah,  have  stood  upon  a  lower  or  higher 
point  of  observation.  I  would  hesitate  to  exculpate  the  Saviour,  as 
most  modern  commentators  do,  on  the  ground  of  his  not  foreseeing 
the  consequences  of  his  deed.  This  representation  militates  against 
the  idea  which  the  evangelists  give  of  their  Lord.  Indeed  if  we  sepa- 
rate from  his  acts,  as  far  as  possible,  the  character  of  the  extraordi- 
nary, we  must  at  all  events  leave  to  them  this  peculiarity,  that  they 
were  accompanied  with  an  unaccountable  fore-sight  of  their  conse- 
quences. Instead  of  resorting  to  such  an  apology,  I  would  make  the 
truth  so  much  the  more  prominent,  that  Jesus,  in  this  as  in  all  his 
miracles,  acted  as  the  representative  of  the  Godhead ;  and  is  to  be 
judged,  in  reference  to  the  act,  by  different  rules  from  those  which 
are  binding  on  us.  When  God,  for  high  benevolent  purposes,  destroys 
individual  property ;  when  by  lightning,  hail,  inundation,  he  ruins 
the  estate  of  one  man  or  many,  who  can  accuse  him  of  unrighteous- 
ness in  the  matter  ?  The  good  of  the  whole,  viewed  comprehen- 
sively, demands  the  destruction,  and  the  arrangement  of  single 
phenomena  is  guided  by  a  wisdom  infinitely  above  our  thoughts. 
On  this  elevated  position  does  Jesus  stand  ;  acting  with  the  power  of 
Divinity,  and  with  heavenly  wisdom.  Such  a  position  is  not  at  all 
adapted  to  encourage  scruples  for  the  safety  of  a  few  swine,  when 
the  spiritual  and  temporal  good  of  rational  natures  is  concerned. 
Should  we  disdain  to  allow,  however,  that  Jesus  acted  from  the 
fulness  of  divine  knowledge  and  authority,  then  it  will  be  very  diffi- 
cult to  justify  his  act,  unless  we  also  refuse  to  allow,  what  the 
evangelists  assert,  that  he  always  foresaw  the  consequences  of  his 
deeds. 


1  Matt.  8:  28—34.  Mark  5:  1— 20.  Luke  8:  2(3-30. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


429 


If  it  may  be  supposed,  that  Jesus  was  not  passionately  excited  at 
the  cursing  of  the  fig-tree,  there  is  yet  another  proceeding  described 
in  the  evangelical  history,  from  which  the  idea  of  the  passionate  and 
the  violent  can  scarcely  be  separated  ;  viz.  the  expulsion  of  the  ex- 
changers, the  sellers  and  buyers  from  the  temple-court.1  This  act 
can  indeed  be  colored  in  such  a  way,  that  a  character  of  violence 
altogether  peculiar  will  be  impressed  upon  it.  But  we  have  certainly 
no  right  to  do  this.  It  was  not  the  physical  force  and  bodily  chastise- 
ment that  Jesus  employed,  so  much  as  his  holy  earnestness  and  high 
personal  dignity  which  gave  expressiveness  and  efficiency  to  his 
conduct.  It  was  the  feeling  that  he  was  in  the  right,  and  they  in  the 
wrong,  that  drove  out  the  traders  of  the  temple.  But  after  all,  there 
does  remain  in  this  act  of  Jesus  something  of  excited  passion,  which 
seems  to  be  in  contrast  with  his  former  mildness  ;  and  even  the 
apostles  perceived  in  this  conduct  a  consuming  zeal.2  But  here  we 
must  introduce  the  distinction  between  the  anger  of  a  private  individ- 
ual, and  the  noble  indignation  of  one  occupying  a  divine  office. 
Jesus  stands  not  as  a  Jewish  Rabbi,  before  Jewish  traders ;  but  he 
stands  as  an  ambassador  from  God,  as  the  Messiah,  as  the  purifier 
of  the  true  theocracy,  before  those  who  profaned  the  house  of  his 
Father.  This  extraordinary  office  gave  him  the  right  to  proceed  in 
a  way,  which  needed  not  to  be  legitimated  by  ordinary  rules.  If 
the  doubtful  right  of  zealots  (jus  zelotarum)  were  even  admitted,  it 
would  surely  not  be  necessary  to  appeal  to  it  for  the  justification  of 
the  Messiah.  "  It  was  the  authority  and  the  power  of  a  true  prophet, 
whose  office  it  was  to  correct  and  chastise  ;  an  office,  which  at  all 
times  and  among  all  people,  when  the  temporal  relations  and  the 
ordinary  course  of  existing  customs  cannot  avail  to  check  growing 
corruptions,  will  be  exercised  and  should  be  exercised  by  the  higher 
natures  who  are  called  to  the  duty.1'3  But  such  an  act,  the  right 
and  duty  of  Jesus  to  perform  which  lay  in  his  office  as  Messiah, 
could  never  be  performed  without  a  deeply  terrifying  earnestness, 
and  an  intensely  burning  zeal.    Such  earnestness  and  such  zeal  are 

1  Matt.  21:  12—14.  Mark  11:  15—19.  Luke  19:  45—46,  compared  with 
John  2:  14,  lb. 

2  John  2:  17.  [Zeal  for  the  honor  of  God's  house  hath  absorbed  me, 
possessed  me  so  thoroughly  that  I  should  be  willing  to  sacrifice  my  life  for 
it;  consumed,  devoured  me. — Tr.] 

3  See  Lilcke's  Commentary  on  this  passage,  I.  pp.  536,  and  537. 


430 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


developments  of  uncorrupted  humanity,  and  of  manly  greatness. 
Whoever  is  not  susceptible  of  such  an  inflammation  of  mind,  so  free 
from  all  mere  personal  feeling,  is  not  capable  of  a  great  action.  To 
the  pure  mind  then,  Jesus  appears  to  stand,  in  this  act  as  well  as  in 
others,  upon  an  unclouded  height. 

Finally,  some  may  persuade  themselves,  that  they  discover,  in  the 
Gospel  of  John,1  the  trace  of  an  untruth,  which  came  from  the  lips 
of  Jesus ;  and  one  of  the  earlier  adversaries  of  Christianity,  Por- 
phyry,2 has  not  failed  to  set  up,  from  this  passage,  an  accusation  of 
fickleness  against  the  Messiah.  Here  also  we  should  obtain  the 
easiest  solution  of  the  difficulty  from  a  variation  of  the  text;  from 
adopting  ovnw  instead  of  ovx.  We  are  compelled,  however,  to  re- 
fuse this  aid  ;  since  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted,  that  this  mode  of 
reading  the  passage  has  been  urged,  merely  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
moving a  difficulty  from  it.  As  a  definition  of  ouz,  and  it  was  at 
first  merely  a  definition,  we  may  be  well  satisfied  with  ovum  ;  since 
elsewhere,  and  particularly  with  John,  ovx  has  the  signification  of 
not  yet.3  In  either  case,  whether  the  implied  idea  of  the  present 
time  lie  in  this  unusual  meaning  of  ovx,  or  in  the  strict  designation  of 
the  present  tense  in  uvufialvu),  to  which  verb  we  may  supply  vvv,  we 
are  obliged  to  confine  the  expression  of  Jesus  to  a  very  limited 
period,  including  only  the  present  and  the  immediately  succeeding 
future.  The  words  directly  following,  "  my  time  has  not  yet  come," 
show  the  necessity  of  this  limitation.  Had  not  the  evangelist  thus 
understood  the  words  of  Jesus,  he  must  himself,  at  the  first  glance, 
have  marked  the  striking  contradiction  between  the  words  and  the 
subsequent  act,  and  he  would  not  so  obviously  have  represented 
Jesus  as  uttering  an  untruth.  To  suppose,  however,  that  Jesus  in- 
tentionally, from  motives  of  prudence,  desired  to  employ  an  equivo- 
cal expression  would  not  be  in  accordance  with  his  character. 

The  history  of  the  temptation,4  in  its  reference  to  Christ's  pure  in- 
nocence, is  more  difficult  to  understand,  than  the  subjects  hitherto 

1  John  7:  8—10. 

2  The  following  is  the  statement  of  Jerome  adv.  Pelag.  Lib.  II :  "  Jesus 
denied  that  he  would  go,  and  then  he  did  tohat  he  had  previously  refused  to  do, 
so  Porphyry  rails,  and  accuses  Jesus  of  inconstancy  and  change."  Porphyry 
also  must  have  read  oi  x,  and  not  ovttuj  in  the  verse. 

3  John  6:  17.    Besides  this,  we  may  refer  to  Mark  11:  13,  and  Ezra  3;  6. 
«  Matt.  4:  1—11.  Mark  1:  12,  13.  Luke  4:  1—13. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


431 


noticed.  Although  we  cannot  engage  in  a  copious  discussion  of  this 
part  of  the  evangelical  history,  we  must  not  omit  the  brief  expression 
of  our  views  respecting  it.  If  we  conceive  of  the  temptation  as 
something  altogether  external,  so  that  the  words  of  the  devil,  whether 
he  be  supposed  to  have  been  Satan  or  a  human  tempter,  were  heard 
by  Jesus  only  with  the  bodily  ear,  and,  so  to  speak,  were  not  con- 
veyed into  his  mind  at  all ;  that  the  temptation,  therefore,  did  not 
affect  him  inwardly  in  the  least,  but  barely  glanced  upon  him,  as  the 
jet  glides  off  from  a  smooth  and  impenetrable  rock  ;  then,  to  be  sure, 
the  subject  has  no  difficulty  for  our  present  consideration.  It  is 
equally  free  from  difficulty,  if  we  look  upon  the  narrative  as  a  poeti- 
cal fiction,  a  fable  or  a  parable.  But  neither  of  these  views  of  the 
subject  seems  to  be  the  right  one. 

As  to  the  first  view,  I  for  one  cannot  persuade  myself  to  adopt  an 
entirely  literal  interpretation  of  the  narrative,  and  to  suppose  that 
Satan  appeared  personally  and  visibly  to  Jesus,  and  carried  on  a  con- 
versation with  him,  every  word  of  which  is  to  be  regarded  as  strictly 
diplomatical.  Not  insisting  on  the  fact,  that  such  a  personal  appear- 
ance of  the  devil  is  never  elsewhere  alluded  to  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, we  are  content  with  saying,  that  the  supposition  of  such  an  ap- 
pearance gives  to  the  whole  scene,  when  examined  narrowly  in  its 
particulars,  an  air  of  oddity.  We  are  forced  to  wonder,  even  as 
much  at  the  manner  of  the  devil's  proceeding,  which  fails  altogether 
to  exhibit  cunning  and  good  sense,  as  at  the  unlimited  forbearance 
of  Jesus,  following  Satan  to  the  pinnacle  of  the  temple,  and  then 
again  to  the  mountain.  To  understand  however  by  the  term,  devil, 
a  mere  human  tempter,  seems  to  me  not  more  opposed  to  the  use 
of  language,  when  closely  examined,  than  it  is  forced  in  the  idea  it- 
self.1 As  to  the  supposition,  that  the  narrative  is  mythical  or  para- 
bolic, this  also,  I  believe,  has  more  against  it  than  in  its  favor.  That 
the  evangelists  should  commence  their  account  of  the  distinctively 
Messianic  portion  of  Christ's  life  directly  with  a  fable,  is  entirely  u> 


1  When  I  penned  the  above,  I  was  not  aware  of  the  existence  of  a  trea- 
tise on  the  history  of  the  temptation,  in  the  first  and  second  numbers  of  the 
Tiibingen  Theological  Quarterly, for  the  year  1827.  This  exhibits  the  most 
plausible  view,  which  can  be  given  of  the  interpretation  that  has  just  been 
rejected.  Without  entering  upon  a  close  examination  of  it,  I  content  my- 
self with  recommending  it  to  the  attention  of  interpreters,  as  an  essay  of  rich 
literary  character,  and  of  acuteness. 


432 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


consistent  with  their  character  as  writers,  and  is  throughout  incredi- 
ble. That  the  narration,  moreover,  has  in  no  way  the  form  of  a 
parable,  and  is  not  carried  on  as  such,  every  one  will  allow,  who 
candidly  compares  it  with  the  other  parables  of  the  New  Testament. 
He  will  allow  it,  unless  indeed  he  adopt  the  most  improbable  sup- 
position, that  the  evangelists  had  so  entirely  misunderstood  a  par- 
able of  Jesus,  not  merely  in  its  spirit  but  also  in  its  form,  as  to  have 
taken  it  for  an  historical  narration. 

We  come,  then,  to  that  view  of  the  subject  which  is  the  most  wor- 
thy to  be  adopted;  which  supposes  the  whole  series  of  the  tempta- 
tions to  have  been  really  internal,  but  to  have  been  presented,  in  the 
description,  as  external.  This  view,  however,  again  branches  out, 
as  we  know,  into  the  double  form, — that  the  temptation  was  a  dream, 
a  vision  or  ecstasy  ;  or  else,  that  it  consisted  in  tempting  thoughts, 
during  a  time  of  mental  clearness  and  self-possession.  The  first  of 
these  forms  introduces  into  the  character  of  Jesus  something  vision- 
ary and  fanatical.  This  however  is  incompatible  with  his  cast  of 
mind,  which,  in  all  other  instances,  appears  to  be  decidedly  clear  and 
discreet.  It  is  also  without  example  in  all  the  evangelical  histories. 
The  remaining  form,  that  of  considering  the  whole  as  a  series  of 
tempting  thoughts,  has  indeed  its  difficulties  ;  but,  as  it  appears  to  me, 
they  may  be  solved.  That  an  inward  train  of  thought  should  be  thus 
represented  in  the  outward  living  form  of  external  deeds,  is  certainly 
not  inconsistent  with  the  oriental,  and  especially  the  Hebrew  style. 
The  particular  temptations  may  very  fitly  be  regarded  as  tempting 
thoughts,  if  we  will  keep  in  view  the  main  design  of  the  narrative. 
This  design  was  to  exhibit  the  whole  scene,  as  &  proving  of  the  Mes- 
siah ;  to  exhibit  Jesus  as  tempted  by  the  prevailing  but  false  ideas 
about  the  Messiah,  which  were  presented  to  his  mind,  but  over  which 
his  true  Messianic  spirit  triumphed,  completely  and  forever.  The 
first  temptation  consisted  in  this,  that  he  should  perform  a  miracle 
for  his  own  advantage,  and  the  relief  of  his  animal  wants  ;  the  se- 
cond, that  he  should  make  a  miraculous  display,  so  as  to  convince 
men  of  his  Messiahship,  by  overpowering  their  senses,  as  it  were ; 
the  third,  that  he  should  found  a  political  Messianic  kingdom,  and 
maintain  his  influence  over  minds  by  power  and  authority.  All  this 
the  contemporaries  of  Jesus  might  expect  from  the  Messiah,  and  did 
actually  expect.  They  supposed  that  he  would  be  invested  with  ex- 
traordinary powers ;  and,  in  accordance  with  their  secular  views, 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


433 


they  could  not  avoid  the  belief,  that  he  would  employ  these  powers 
immediately  for  his  own  advantage,  relieving  his  necessities  and  ex- 
alting himself.  They  demanded  of  him  the  most  surprising  mira- 
cles ;  wonders  from  heaven,  as  they  are  so  often  called  in  the  Gos- 
pel. They  hoped  to  see  in  him,  the  founder  of  a  temporal  king- 
dom ;  and  to  see  the  visible  theocracy  reestablished  by  him,  in  splen- 
dor and  power.  This  was  doubtless  the  idea  which  Christ's  con- 
temporaries had  of  the  Messiah ;  and  the  chief  elements  of  it  were 
expressed  in  the  individual  acts  of  the  temptation,  in  a  manner  true 
to  the  life.  But  the  holy  spirit  of  a  Messiah,  which  Christ  possessed 
in  all  its  fulness,  and  which  in  all  its  power  operated  within  him, 
especially  after  he  was  solemnly  consecrated  in  baptism  to  his  office, 
now  triumphed  victoriously  over  all  his  temptations.  Even  in  the 
most  urgent  necessities  he  would  perform  no  miracle  for  his  own 
advantage,  but  with  unlimited  confidence  referred  it  to  the  Father, 
to  determine  the  means,  which  Omnipotence  should  provide  for  his 
succor.  From  the  time  of  his  temptation  it  continued  to  be  the  in- 
violable principle  of  his  life,  never  to  employ,  for  his  own  benefit, 
the  extraordinary  powers  which  were  at  his  command,  but  to  employ 
them  for  the  benefit  of  others  only.  Pie  was  equally  unwilling  to 
make  any  miraculous  display ;  and  though  often  and  urgently  en- 
treated to  do  so,  by  his  degraded  and  wonder-loving  contemporaries, 
he  never  suffered  himself  to  be  persuaded.  Finally,  he  would,  least 
of  all,  establish  a  temporal  kingdom,  however  alluring  may  have 
been  the  prospect  of  the  magnificent  results  of  this  course.1  By 
such  an  enterprise  he  would  become  unfaithful  to  the  holy  God, 
would  walk  in  communion  with  evil,  and  in  subjection  to  it.  In  this 
way,  then,  did  the  divine  idea  of  a  perfectly  spiritual  Redeemer,  la- 
boring for  the  good  of  others,  and  denying  himself  in  all  things,  go- 
ing about  in  unostentatious  simplicity,  and  in  the  form  of  a  servant, 
triumph  over  the  false  idea  of  a  Messiah,  which,  at  his  entrance  upon 
his  official  course,  was  suggested  temptingly  to  Jesus,  and  which 
gave  him  an  opportunity,  before  he  subdued  other  minds  by  the 
word  of  truth  and  by  the  power  of  love,  to  achieve  the  noblest  spir- 
itual victory  within  his  own  soul. 

But  this  explanation,  which  our  object  requires  us  barely  to  sug- 
gest, is  met  by  an  objection,  referring  particularly  to  the  statement 
that  Jesus  was  not  tempted  by  anything  which  came  to  him  immedi- 

1  John  (J:  15. 

55 


434 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


ately  from  without,  but  by  his  own  thoughts.    The  objection  has 
been  expressed  by  no  one  more  keenly  than  by  Schleiermacher. 
"  If  Christ,"  he  says,1  44  even  in  the  slightest  degree  harbored  such 
thoughts,  then  he  is  no  longer  Christ ;  and  this  interpretation  appears 
to  me  to  be  the  vilest  neological  abuse  of  Christ's  personal  character, 
which  has  appeared."    But  this  interpretation  would  involve  an  in- 
jury to  Christ,  only  in  case  that  it  could  not  be  adopted  without  deny- 
ing his  perfect  purity  and  holiness.    And  we  should  be  obliged  to 
deny  this,  if  we  admitted  either  that  the  evil  thoughts  of  the  tempta- 
tion were  engendered  in  the  soul  of  Jesus  himself, — for  so  far  as  his 
soul,  of  its  own  choice,  originated,  even  in  mere  thought,  anything 
of  evil,  it  would  be  indeed  stained  with  sin  ; — or  if  we  admitted,  that 
the  tempting  charm  was  ever  effective  in  determining  his  will.  But 
neither  the  former,  nor  the  latter  branch  of  this  alternative  is  conce- 
ded by  our  interpretation.    If  tempting  thoughts  did  arise  even  in 
the  soul  of  Jesus,  still  they  were  not  engendered  in  it.    They  were 
the  elements  of  the  prevailing  idea  respecting  the  Messiah,  and  this 
idea  was  an  objective  reality.2    The  idea  could  not  be  unknown  to 
Christ,  and  it  was  altogether  inevitable  that  it  should  occur  to  his 
mind,  on  some  external  occasion,  as  he  was  now  preparing  himself 
for  his  office.    He  must,  at  such  a  time,  necessarily  consider  what 
his  contemporaries  would  expect  of  him,  when  he  should  appear  as 
the  Messiah.    He  thought  therefore  upon  this  popular  expectation, 
the  predominant  features  of  which  were  earthly  and  wicked,  as  an 
existing  fact.    But  though  a  deed  be  wicked  in  itself,  the  thought  of 
it  is  not  necessarily  wicked.    If  it  were  so,  then  God  could  not  be 
holy  ;  for  he  surveys  the  whole  sum  of  wickedness.    It  would  be  a 
very  different  thing,  if  this  meditation  upon  evil  were  accompanied 
with  a  pleasure  participating  in  the  evil  and  determining  the  will. 
But  this,  according  to  the  narration  in  the  Gospels,  was  not  the  fact. 
So  soon  as  the  tempting  thought  arose  in  the  soul  of  Jesus,  and  ex- 
cited desire,  it  was  thrust  down  by  his  pure  and  strong  power  of 
choice. 

But  even  if  we  regard  the  temptation  as  an  external  occurrence, 
still  the  objection  of  Schleiermacher  may  be  substantially  urgea*  as 

1  Kritischer  Versuch  liber  die  Schriften  des  Lucas,  p.  54. 

5  [Etvvas  objectiv  gegebenes  :  it  was  not  a  mere  fancy  of  Christ,  but  was 
an  idea  actually  existing  in  the  popular  mind,  and  as  such  it  occurred  to  him. 
-Tr.] 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


435 


before.  Even  if  it  were  external,  we  are  yet  compelled  to  believe 
that  an  inward  temptation,  one  of  the  thoughts,  was  connected  with 
the  outward  process  ;  for  otherwise  the  idea  of  being  tempted  is  ta- 
ken away  altogether.  A  temptation  consists,  not  barely  in  the  ear's 
hearing  evil  words,  such  as  are  designed  to  encourage  immorality 
and  sin,  but  always  in  the  mind's  receiving  certain  ideas,  so  as  to 
feel,  in  connection  with  them,  some  excitement  of  desire.  This 
must  be  the  case,  even  if  we  choose  to  adopt  the  notion  of  a  tempt- 
ing agency  working  from  without,  of  whatever  nature  the  agency 
may  be.  But  neither  in  that  thought  of  evil,  such  a  thought  being 
also  in  the  mind  of  God  ;  nor  in  that  excitement  of  desire,  such  an 
excitement  being  inseparable  from  human  nature,  there  being  with- 
out it  no  possibility  either  of  moral  combat,  or  victory  ;  in  neither, 
I  say,  is  there  any  sin  at  all,  so  long  as  the  power  of  choice  triumphs 
purely  and  perfectly  over  both.  The  doctrine  then  of  the  Saviour's 
innocency  receives  no  detriment  from  this  mode  of  explaining  his 
temptation. 

If,  however,  we  should  choose  to  adopt  the  idea,  that  Christ's 
temptation  was  entirely  external,  so  that,  properly  speaking,  only 
Satan  made  an  attempt  to  seduce  Jesus,  but  Jesus  was  not  inwardly 
affected  by  it  in  the  least ;  so  that  the  temptation  was  therefore  ob- 
jective merely,  and  not  at  all  subjective  ;  still,  I  see  not  how  we  can 
dispose  of  other  passages  in  the  New  Testament,  without  admitting 
an  inward  excitement  of  desire,  and  a  struggle  ensuing  from  it  in 
the  soul  of  Jesus.  The  passages  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  4: 
15  and  5:  7,  will  still  be  left ;  so  likewise  will  many  occurrences  re- 
corded in  the  Gospels,  where  the  physical  appetite,  the  excitability 
of  sense,  the  passions  of  Jesus,  are  seen  to  be  in  lively  movement. 
Above  all  we  can  always  appeal  to  the  conflict  of  his  spirit  in  Geth- 
semane.  There  was  something  in  him,  at  that  time,  which  elicited 
the  wish  to  be  delivered  from  the  fear/ul  suffering,  that  was  insepara- 
ble from  his  elevated  destination.    But  this  sensuous1  part  of  his  hu- 


1  [Sinnlich,  sensuous,  in  distinction  from  sensual :  the  former  referring  to 
the  animal  sensibilities  in  their  constitutional  and  therefore  innocent  exer- 
cise ;  the  latter  to  these  sensibilities  in  their  undue,  inordinate,  and  there- 
fore sinful  indulgence.  The  word  has  been,  recently,  often  used  in  this  pe- 
culiar signification;  and  yet  it  must  be  conceded,  that  there  is  no  valid  au- 
thority for  the  usage.  It  has  been,  unjustifiably  perhaps,  inserted  here,  and 
on  one  or  two  subsequent  pages,  merely  for  the  sake  of  convenience.  The 


436 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


manity,  which  broke  forth  strongly  for  a  moment,  and  the  wish 
which  was  excited  by  it,  did  not  determine  the  will  of  Jesus  ;  no,  his 
power  of  choice,  and  of  pure  intellect  triumphed  ;  and  the  victory 
was  proclaimed  in  these  great  words,  "  not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou 
wilt."  We  cannot  divest  Jesus  of  such  excitements,  unless  we  di- 
vest him  of  humanity  ;  but  this  we  cannot  do,  for  it  would  contradict 
the  plain  idea  which  the  New  Testament  gives  of  Christ ;  nor  need 
we  do  it,  for  the  sensuous  power,  the  excitability  connected  with  it, 
the  susceptibility  to  temptation  resulting  from  it,  are  inseparable  from 
human  nature,  and  therefore  cannot  be  regarded  as  sinful.1 


SECTION  VIII. 

Possibility  of  perfect  virtue. — It  cannot  be  disproved  by  the  actual  imperfec- 
tion of  the  race. — The  vitiosity  of  our  race  no  proof  that  Christ  was  not 
perfect. — Original  sin  no  proof. — The  fact,  that  Christ's  animal  sensibili- 
ties were  sometimes  excited,  no  proof  that  he  ever  yielded  to  sin. — His  fi- 
nite nat  ure  no  evidence  of  guilt  — His  feeling  of  humility  no  evidence  of  it. 

These  are  perhaps  the  more  important  historical  objections  against 
the  uninterrupted  holiness  of  Jesus.    We  are  next  met  by  some  in- 

word,  animal,  might  perhaps  have  been  substituted,  but  this  word,  as  well  as 
sensual,  often  suggests  the  idea  of  moral  degradation,  and  such  an  idea  is  to 
be  especially  guarded  against  in  this  connection.  A  new  word  is  manifest- 
ly needed  in  our  language  to  express  the  full  idea  of  the  German,  sinnlich. 
-Tr.] 

1  [To  say  that  a  holy  being  possesses  the  susceptibilities,  which,  being  ex- 
cited to  a  certain  degree,  are  the  inward  or  subjective  motives  that  occasion 
the  change  from  holiness  to  sin,  is  only  to  say  that  this  holy  being  is  a  moral 
being.  To  say  that  all  excitement  of  these  susceptibilities  is  itself  sin,  is  to 
say  that  there  is  no  difference  between  voluntary  and  involuntary  desires, 
between  the  character  and  the  constitution  of  man  ;  it  is  to  say  that  sin  is 
unavoidable,  that  it  is  to  be  charged  upon  the  Deity,  as  the  only  voluntary 
cause.  To  admit,  however,  that  the  excitement  of  these  susceptibilities  is 
not  in  itself  a  sin,  and,  unless  an  undue  excitement  of  them  be  indulged  by 
the  will,  leaves  the  being  as  holy  as  ever,  is  merely  to  admit,  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  possible  as  the  temptation  of  a  being  who  remains  sinless.  The 
admission  is  essential  to  the  idea  of  a  moral  agent.  When  it  is  said  that  God 
cannot  be  tempted  with  evil,  it  is  of  course  meant  that  there  is  the  most  en- 
tire certainty  conceivable  of  his  never  choosiug  any  improper  object.  See 
Note  G;  at  the  close  of  this  Treatise. — Tr.] 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


ternal  difficulties,  which  in  like  manner  demand  investigation.— A 
man  may  deny  the  reality  of  a  virtue,  that  is  entirely  pure  and  per- 
fect, on  the  ground  of  his  believing  such  virtue  to  he  impossible  ;  he 
is  convinced  that  there  can  never  be  a  human  being  completely  holy. 
This  decision,  that  no  man  can  be  perfectly  pure  and  holy,  must  be 
founded  either  on  general  experience,  or  on  a  dictate  of  reason  ;  it 
must  be  either  an  historical  truth,  or  an  a  priori  one  ;  and  we  will 
see  whether  it  be  this  or  that. 

In  the  first  place,  as  to  general  experience.  This  has  indeed  in 
many  minds  produced  an  entire  want  of  confidence  in  the  purity  of 
any  human  virtue,  and  an  entire  distrust  in  the  moral  goodness  and 
greatness  of  our  race. — And  it  is  a  fact,  the  deeper  we  penetrate, 
and  the  more  earnestly  we  look  into  the  developments  of  human  life 
and  history,  and  the  more  clearly  we  see  our  own  hearts,  so  much 
the  more  difficult  is  it  to  convince  us,  that  an  unexceptionably  good 
and  pure  man  has  ever  lived.  For  look  where  we  will,  there  is  to 
be  seen,  though  veiled  perhaps  under  a  thousand  smiling  forms,  vo- 
luptuousness, vanity,  ambition,  love  of  property  and  power,  unchari- 
tableness,  envy,  and  the  evil  of  all  evils,  selfishness,  which  knows 
how  to  steal,  with  the  most  delicate  windings,  into  our  noblest  de- 
sires and  acts.  Seldom  are  we  cheered,  for  an  instant,  with  the  dis- 
covery of  a  deed  that  is  altogether  good  and  pure;  never  do  we  find 
a  man  whose  life  has  exhibited  an  untarnished  picture  of  moral  per- 
fection and  true  spiritual  freedom.  We  have  been  so  habituated  to 
this  constant  view  of  dereliction  from  duty,  that  we  are  now  almost 
incapable  of  conceiving,  in  all  its  sublimity  and  lustre,  a  develop- 
ment of  virtue  that  is  really  exalted  and  altogether  unstained.  We 
have  lost  that  mental  elasticity,  which  is  essential  to  our  belief  in  the 
true  greatness  of  the  intellect  and  heart ;  and  in  the  end,  our  know- 
ledge of  men  dissolves  itself  into  the  melancholy  state  of  absolute 
distrust  in  the  race.  But  the  knowledge  of  mankind,  which  leads  to 
this  conclusion,  is  in  fact  derived  from  the  principle  of  distrust.  At 
the  outset,  it  is  predisposed  to  discover  imperfection  and  faults,  and 
either  to  overlook  the  good  and  noble,  or  else  to  refer  them  to  im- 
pure and  evil  motives.  Such  acquaintance  with  human  nature  shows 
itself  to  be  unsound  by  this,  that  it  makes  a  concession  which  tends 
to  cripple  and  utterly  prostrate  our  best  moral  dispositions,  our  love 
and  trust,  and  kills  in  the  root  our  enthusiasm  for  mankind. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  we  look  among  men  with  unprejudiced 


438 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


feeling,  we  see  an  unquestionable  amount  of  the  good  and  noble. 
Men  of  the  keenest  understanding,  united  with  the  deepest  experi- 
ence of  life,  show  by  their  example,  that  one  may  possess  these 
qualities,  without  being  induced  by  them  to  give  up  all  faith  in  hu- 
man nature.  They  prove,  that  it  depends  not  so  much  upon  expe- 
rience, as  upon  the  disposition  and  the  previous  judgment  with 
which  one  examines  the  phenomena  of  life,  whether  he  be  led  to  an 
entire  distrust  in  human  virtue,  or  retain  a  faith  in  it.  And  this  faith, 
properly  speaking,  is  something  which  lies  beyond  the  sphere  of  in- 
dividual experience  and  is  independent  of  it ;  it  has  its  foundation, 
like  faith  in  God,  in  the  depth  of  the  spirit,  and,  like  that,  is  a  power 
which  holds  us  erect  amid  the  storms  of  life,  and  raises  us  above  the 
influence  of  bitter  experiences.  As  little  as  true  faith  in  God  can  be 
destroyed  by  adversity,  even  so  little  can  faith  in  mankind  be  de- 
stroyed by  the  moral  imperfections,  or  wickedness  of  individuals. 
All  the  experience  which  we  can  have  on  this  subject  is  partial  and 
contracted.  It  therefore  in  no  way  entitles  us  to  draw  the  conclu- 
sion, that  whatever  we  find  throughout  our  own  narrow  horizon,  is  of 
course  a  fact  existing  everywhere  and  by  absolute  necessity  ;  and 
whatever  we  do  not  discover  in  that  same  circle,  is  of  course  a  plain 
impossibility.  In  investigating  the  laws  of  nature,  a  phenomenon 
occurring  uniformly  allows  us  to  infer,  that  it  is  both  universal  and 
necessary  ;  but  in  investigating  the  operations  of  the  free  will,  a 
different  process  is  required.  Here  millions  of  ordinary  phenomena 
prove  nothing  against  one  extraordinary  phenomenon ;  and  this  is 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  less  possible  than  those.  The  necessity 
of  sinning  and  the  impossibility  of  not  sinning,  is  by  no  means  a 
law  of  the  moral  nature  of  man.  Nay,  perfect  virtue  is  man's  true 
and  original  destination,  and  the  appropriate  law  of  his  being ;  and 
sin  is  an  exception  from  this  law.  And  what  now  can  entitle  us  to 
believe,  that  there  are,  every  where  and  of  necessity,  only  exceptions 
to  this  law ;  that  there  can  be  never  and  nowhere  a  fulfilling  of  it  ? 
If  ever  so  many  exceptions  present  themselves  before  us,  they  yet 
do  not  destroy  the  credibility,  that  some  one  at  some  period  may  ar- 
rive at  the  high  destination  of  his  race  ;  that  he  actually  may  have 
arrived  at  it ;  and  if  the  real  existence  of  a  perfect  man  be  repre- 
sented to  us  as  an  historical  fact,  in  all  other  respects  fully  entitled  to 
belief,  the  multitude  of  opposing  experiences  cannot  rationally  pre- 
vent us  from  admitting  this  one  great  reality.    If  we  should,  in  the 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


439 


department  of  morals,  give  credence  only  to  that  which  we  learn 
from  immediate  observation,  our  circle  of  vision  would  become  very- 
small  and  confined ;  and  we  should  lose  not  only  faith  in  the  abso- 
lutely pure  virtue  of  the  Redeemer,  but  also  faith  in  the  moral  ex- 
cellence of  all  the  great  and  good  men,  whom  we  have  never  had 
an  opportunity  to  know.  But  there  is  in  the  moral  nature  of  man, 
an  obligation  to  believe  in  such  high  virtue,  even  if  it  do  not  fall  di- 
rectly within  the  sphere  of  our  actual  notice.  We  cannot  therefore 
divest  ourselves  of  firm  confidence  in  the  purest  and  most  perfect 
goodness,  so  far  as  its  appearance,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is  supported 
by  all  the  external  proof,  which  can  make  it  worthy  of  credence.1 

But  now  the  question  arises,  whether  moral  imperfection  and  vi- 
tiosity  do  not,  in  some  degree  or  other,  lie  in  the  nature  of  man  ;  and 
whether  reason  do  not  pronounce  it  a  universal  truth,  that  no  man 
can  be  perfectly  good  and  holy.  All  the  doubts,  so  far  as  I  know, 
which  pertain  to  this  part  of  the  subject,  have  been  stated  particu- 
larly by  De  Wette.2  Following  in  the  footsteps  of  this  honored  theo- 
logian, we  will  bring  forward  the  points,  which  are  here  to  be  exam- 
ined ;  although  we  expect  to  be  obliged  to  solve  the  difficulties,  in  a 
different  way  from  that  which  he  has  adopted. 

"  If,"  as  may  be  first  remarked,  "  we  ascribe  to  Jesus  the  possibility 
of  sinning,  then  we  make  him  a  partaker  of  vitiosity  ;  for  this  vitios- 
ity  consists  not  in  the  sum  of  sins  actually  committed,  but  even  in 
the  possibility  of  committing  a  sin.  If  then  we  declare  Jesus  to  be 
free  from  actual  sin,  we  have  not  thereby  declared  him  to  be  free 
from  original  sin.  Vitiosity  includes  a  degree,  though  the  least  con- 
ceivable, of  sin,  and  therefore  excludes  absolute  innocence."  That 
there  was  in  Jesus  a  possibility  of  sinning,  so  far  as  he  was  a  truly 
human  being,  cannot  indeed  be  denied  ;  but  this  is  by  no  means 
identical  with  vitiosity.  The  possibility  of  sinning  exists  in  the  very 
nature  of  free-will ;  it  is  inseparable  from  the  constitution  of  a  finite 
moral  being.  If  therefore  it  is  in  itself  sinful,  then  a  germ  of  sin  is 
communicated  to  man  with,  and  even  in  his  constitution  ;  and  if  this 
be  the  fact,  then  the  author  of  our  moral  constitution,  is  also  the  au- 

1  See  Note  F,  at  the  close. 

2  Christliche  Sittenlehre  ;  1.  pp.  182—193.  We  make  the  general  re- 
quest, that  the  whole  section,  "  Christus  der  Heilige,"  by  De  Wette,  may 
be  consulted. 

3  De  Wette  Sittenlcehre  ;  I.  p.  188. 


440 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


thor  of  our  sinful  tendencies.  But  this  is  a  conclusion  which  De 
Wette  rejects,  as  decidedly  as  every  other  sound-minded  man. 
Plainly  the  word,  vitiosity,  must  mean  more  than  the  bare  possibility 
of  sinning  ;  for  the  possibility  of  sinning  is  consistent  with  a  com- 
plete indifference  of  the  free  will ;  but  vitiosity  presupposes  a  decid- 
ed propensity  to  evil,  and  a  germ  of  sin  from  which  actual  trans- 
gressions subsequently  unfold  themselves.1  Therefore,  although  we 
are  to  ascribe  the  possibility  of  sinning  to  Jesus,  we  by  no  means 
allow  that  there  existed,  in  connection  with  this  possibility,  any  sin- 
ful disposition  ;  any,  even  the  least  propensity  towards  evil,  or  any 
real  evil.2 

It  is  another  question,  whether,  besides  the  possibility  of  sinning, 
necessary  to  every  free  nature,  there  were  not  also  in  Jesus  that  pe- 
culiar bias  to  evil,  which  has  been  superinduced  upon  the  nature  of 
man,  without  his  own  choice  ;  that  vitiosity  which  is  called  original 
sin?  If  we  consider  a  predominant  bias  to  evil  as  dwelling  univer- 
sally in  human  nature,  it  will  be  peculiarly  difficult  to  avoid  the  sup- 
position, that  Jesus  was  swayed  by  it,  and  thereby  his  moral  purity 
was  defaced.  In  many  systems  which  retain  the  strict  doctrine  of 
original  sin,  this  difficulty,  as  we  well  know,  is  removed  by  the  theo- 
ry, that  the  peculiar  divine  interposition,  at  the  miraculous  concep- 
tion of  Jesus,  prevented  the  implantation  within  him,  of  the  human 
original  depravity  ;  and  the  divine  nature  being  united  with  the  hu- 
man at  the  first  moment  of  its  earthly  existence,  precludes  the  intro- 
duction of  the  least  degree  of  moral  evil  into  that  human  nature.4 
But  we  do  not  allow  ourselves  to  examine,  at  present,  this  mode  of 
solving  the  difficulty,  and  we  must  decline  making  any  use  of  the 
solution  for  the  two  following  reasons.  First,  it  has  been  our  design, 
throughout  the  whole  of  this  essay,  not  to  interrupt  the  regular  his- 
torical course  of  our  investigation  by  the  admixture  of  dogmatical 
principles.  Secondly,  it  cannot  be  proved,  that  the  fact  of  Christ's 
extraordinary  conception,  as  it  is  definitely  taught  by  both  Mat- 
thew and  Luke,  is  ever  in  the  New  Testament  brought  into  connec- 

1  Einen  positiven  Hang  zum  Bdsen,  und  einen  Keim  der  Sunde,  aus 
welchera  sich  dann  die  wirklichen  Sunden  entwickeln. 

2  See  Note  G,  at  the  close. 

3  For  the  meaning-  of  original  sin,  and  the  distinction  between  it  and  viti- 
osity, see  note  H,  at  the  close. 

*  [See  Knapp'sTheol.  IX.  §  78.   Storr  and  Flatt  IV.  §  75.— Tr.] 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


•Ill 


tion  with  the  freedom  of  his  nature  from  original  sin.  If  the  New 
Testament  does  not  give  this  solution,  it  cannot  be  considered  as  au- 
thoritative, even  though  it  have  many  an  argument  in  its  favor. 

A  reply  now,  somewhat  like  the  following,  might  be  made  to  this 
objection.  '  Whatever  shape  may  be  given  to  the  dogma  of  original 
sin,  the  doctrine  of  moral  freedom  must  never  be  endangered  by  it. 
This  doctrine  we  must  hold  fast,  both  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is 
taught  in  the  Gospel,  and  also  in  the  shape  in  which  it  is  declared 
by  our  moral  consciousness.  For  even  if  we  have  a  propensity  to 
evil,  we  are  yet  conscious  every  moment  of  an  inextinguishable 
power,  by  which  we  can  resist  allurements  to  sin,  and  act  virtuously. 
Without  this  immediate  consciousness,  there  would  be  no  exercise 
of  the  moral  sense,  and  no  imputation  of  moral  qualities  ;  for  all 
moral  judgments  are  founded  on  the  conviction  that  we  are  both  able 
and  bound  to  avoid  the  evil,  and  perform  the  good.  Now  in  this 
certainty  of  freedom,  the  supposition  of  which  excludes  all  absolute 
necessity  of  sinning,  we  have  the  pledge,  that  it  is  possible  to  be 
a  partaker  of  human  nature,  and  yet  to  be  without  sin.  For  if  the 
power  of  free-will  is  one,  which  can  overcome  the  inclination  to  evil, 
and  do  what  is  right,  in  every  individual  case,  then  it  also  includes  the 
possibility  of  doing  right  in  all  cases.  It  is  therefore  conceivable,  that 
in  some  human  being  this  possibility  should  be  exemplified  in  actual 
fact.' — But  this  kind  of  exemption  from  sin  presupposes  an  entirely 
uncorrupted  and  unweakened  power  of  choice ;  and  the  existence 
of  such  a  power  is  denied  by  the  supposition  of  a  universal  corrup- 
tion of  human  nature.1 

The  objection,  therefore,  which  we  are  now  considering,  may  per- 
haps be  answered  more  satisfactorily  in  the  following  manner  :  1  It 
cannot  be  regarded  as  a  truth  of  abstract  reason  that  man  must  sin ; 
nor  even  that  he  is  infected  by  nature  with  a  propensity,  or  bias  to 
sin.  Looking  away  from  Revelation,  we  can  be  convinced  of  this 
bias  cleaving  to  ourselves  only  by  experience."12  By  this  experience, 
indeed,  we  are  compelled  to  believe  that  the  moral  consciousness  of 
every  one  may  convince  him  of  the  weakness  which  exists  in  his 
own  will.    Still,  on  the  other  hand,  if  a  rational  being  appears,  who 

1  See  JNote  I,  at  the  close  of  this  Treatise. 

2  Even  Kant  appeals  to  experience,  when  he  would  prove  the  existence 
of  a  bias  to  evil  in  human  nature.  Relig.  innerh.  dor  Griinzen  der  bi.  Ver- 
nunft,  1 .  Cap.  3. 

56 


442 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


does  not  experience  this  moral  failing,  and  who  with  vast  mental 
power,  and  with  cool  discretion,  bears  testimony  to  his  own  perfec- 
tion of  virtue,  then,  unless  this  testimony  be  destitute  of  other  crite- 
ria of  truth,  we  have  no  reason  to  reject  it.  We  have  no  reason,  as 
sin  must  not  be  considered  necessary  to  man,  to  refuse  such  testi- 
mony, even  if,  at  first  view,  it  be  not  entirely  obvious  how  a  being, 
who  belongs  to  a  corrupted  race,  can  yet  be  free  from  the  common 
corruption. 

There  is  another  objection.    It  is  said,1 — "  So  far  as  the  virtue  of 
Jesus  was  human,  it  must  have  had  a  mixture  of  the  sensuous,  from 
which  no  human  resolution  is  entirely  free  ;  and  in  being  thus  sub- 
jected to  a  law  of  sense,  there  is  such  an  imperfection,  as  is 
incompatible  with   the  idea  of  absolute  completeness  of  virtue." 
There  is  some  truth  in  this  idea.     We  cannot  deny  that  the 
sensuous  principle,  which  imparts  excitement  to  the  resolutions  and 
acts,  was  intimately  connected  with  the  virtue  of  Jesus.    We  cannot 
deny  it,  so  long  as  we  suppose,  that  he  had  necessarily  the  same 
connection  of  soul  with  body,  which  other  men  have.    It  is  not  to 
be  conceded,  however,  that  in  this  sensuous  element  of  the  volun- 
tary and  of  the  external  action,  there  is  anything  in  itself  evil  and 
sinful.    As  soon  as  the  last  and  highest  impulse  to  the  volition  and 
the  outward  act  goes  forth  from  the  appropriate  leading  power,  from 
spirit  (pneuma),  the  volition  and  the  act  are  morally  good  ;  even  if 
in  the  progress  of  these  there  be  conjoined,  as  is  inevitable,  an  ex- 
citement of  the  animal  sensibilities.     The  excitement  of  sense  is 
evil,  only  when  in  opposition  to  higher  spiritual  principles.    But  we 
do  not  find  this  opposition  in  Jesus,  neither  in  suffering,  nor  in 
acting  ;  and  wherever,  as  the  result  of  his  human  nature,  any  en- 
ticement arises  from  his  animal   sensibilities,  the  enticement  is 
overpowered  by  the  spiritual  nature.    If  then  an  operation  of  the 
sensuous  principle  is  exhibited  in  the  conduct  of  Jesus,  it  is  still 
in  harmonious  subordination  to  the  ruling  spiritual  power.  Now 
the  excitements  of  this  principle  are  actually  essential  to  human  na- 
ture ;  if  we  should  suppose  them  to  be  at  all  sinful,  we  must  ascribe 
the  guilt  to  the  author  of  them.    That  these  sensuous  impulses, 
however,  operated  unsuitably,  even   in  a  single  instance,  as  the 
means  of  determining  the  will  of  Jesus,  can  in  no  way  be  shown. 
Still  less  is  it  evident  to  me,  how  any  one,  without  considering 

1  De  Wette  Christ.  Mor.  J. p.  188. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


143 


every  created  being  as  an  apostate  from  God,  and  without  adopting 
the  representations  of  the  oriental  Gnostics  and  of  Origen,  how  any 
one,  I  say,  can  speak  of  Jesus  as  "  guilty  in  having  a  finite  nature 
and  can  make  the  remark,  that  "  as  a  human  being,  he  must  have 
been  finite,  and  therefore  a  subject  of  the  contractedness  and  guilt, 
which  belong  to  the  finite  state,  as  such."1  Every  being,  as  is 
obvious,  is  perfect  only  according  to  his  constitutional  structure. 
The  perfection  of  a  finite  nature  is  therefore  by  no  means  absolutely 
identical  with  the  perfection  of  an  infinite  ;  the  highest  and  purest 
human  virtue  is  yet  not  the  holiness  of  God,  for  this  holiness  is  con- 
joined with  the  comprehensive  whole  of  his  nature  and  attributes. 
But  the  finite  being  is  not  guilty  on  account  of  this  difference. 
Whatever  corresponds  with  the  origin  and  design  of  his  constitution 
is  right ;  ail  that  belongs  to  pure  humanity2  is,  as  such,  perfect.  If 
we  impute  finiteness,  as  a  sin,  to  a  finite  nature,  then  again  the  sin 
lies  at  the  door  of  him  who  has  actually  made  that  nature  as  it  is, 
made  it  not  infinite.  But  yet  the  perfectly  virtuous  will  of  man, 
though  it  be  finite,  may  correspond  with  the  holy  will  of  God,  which 
is  infinite ;  and  the  human,  in  the  sphere  of  operation  assigned  it, 
may  harmonize  with  the  divine.  This  is  all  which  we  assert,  when 
we  ascribe  to  Jesus,  in  his  mere  human  nature,  innocence  and  holi- 
ness. Only  when  the  finite  will  goes  out  of  its  appropriate  sphere, 
does  it  become  guilty  for  its  finiteness,  and  just  so  far  guilty,  as  it 
puts  itself  forward  for  something  different  from  what  it  actually  is, 
(and  comes  short  of  what  it  pretends  to  be.)  This  charge  however 
is  not  brought  against  Jesus  ;  at  least  not  in  the  preceding  objection. 

Finally,  it  is  still  objected,3  "  The  feeling  of  humility  in  the  breast 
of  Jesus  resulted  from  the  consciousness  of  being  imperfect  and  cir- 
cumscribed ;  and  of  having  some  vitiosity  and  guilt.  This  humility 
is  an  essential  feature  of  the  moral  perfection  of  man  ;  by  it  man 
purifies  himself  from  the  guilt  cleaving  to  him  ;  and  therefore  Jesus, 
when  he  humbles  himself  as  a  finite  nature,  before  the  heavenly 
Father,  is  in  this  respect  also  an  example  for  us."  But  if  a  self-con- 
sistency must  be  ascribed  to  the  character  of  the  Messiah,  we  cannot 
admit  this  assertion.    The  same  Jesus  who  declared  himself  free 

1  De  Wette,  Christ.  Mor.  I.  pp.  189,  102. 

2  [Whatever  belongs  to  the  constitution  of  man  as  he  came  from  the  hand 
of  God.— Tr.] 

3  Ibid.  I.  p.  192 


444 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


from  every  fault,  who  was  confident  of  his  oneness  with  God,  who 
was  immovably  persuaded  that  in  all  his  life  he  represented  the 
character  of  his  Father,  could  not  have  been  humble  on  account  of 
any,  even  the  slightest  feeling  of  moral  deficiency  and  guilt.  It  was 
only  from  a  generous  condescension,  that  he  was  humble.  It  was 
only  for  the  sake  of  being  an  example  to  the  race,  for  the  sake  of 
attracting  and  elevating  men  to  himself,  by  the  power  of  a  self- 
denying  love.  The  general  truth  is,  humility  does  not  distinctively 
consist  in  the  consciousness  of  our  moral  imperfections  and  faults  ; 
this  is  the  feeling  of  guilt.  Humility  is  the  modest  estimation  of  the 
good  which  belongs  to  ourselves,  the  mild  judgment  respecting  others 
of  inferior  worth,  and  the  conviction  that  none  of  the  good  which  we 
possess  is  of  our  own  acquisition,  but  is  the  gift  of  a  higher  power 
and  love.  And  this  humility  we  find  in  Jesus.  He  allowed  no 
splendid  exhibition  of  his  high  and  peculiar  excellences.  He  was 
always  mild  and  condescending  ;  so  that  he  might  bless  the  weakest 
with  the  beams  of  his  light,  and  the  power  of  a  better  life.  And 
above  all,  in  every  thing  which  he  said  and  did,  he  pointed  to  the 
fountain  of  truth  and  goodness  ;  to  the  Father,  who  permitted  the 
Son  to  have  in  himself,  and  to  exhibit  to  man  a  heavenly  life  that 
was  pure,  perfect  and  self-sufficient.1 

1  It  is  indeed  true,  that  the  heaven  of  heavens  is  destitute  of  the  degree  of 
purity  which  belongs  to  God,  and  may  therefore  be  called  comparatively 
impure  ;  and  the  angels  are  destitute  of  the  degree  of  wisdom,  which  be- 
longs to  Him,  and  may  therefore  be  charged  with  comparative  folly ;  and 
all  finite  beings  are  necessarily,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  term,  imperfect, 
and  are  bound  to  feel  and  acknowledge  their  inferiority  to  Him,  who  only  is 
absolute  perfection.  Hence  the  angels  veil  their  faces  before  God,  and  fall 
prostrate.  Hence  Christ,  as  a  man,  was  "  meek  and  lowly,"  and  cried  "  not 
as  1  will  but  as  thou  wilt."  These  created  intelligences  are  perfect  relatively 
to  their  capacities,  but  as  they  are  not  perfect  in  the  absolute  sense,  they 
feel  bound  to  appreciate  their  inferiority,  as  it  really  is.  This  heart-felt 
appreciation  may  be  termed  humility  ;  a  generic  word,  which,  though  it  or- 
dinarily includes  the  specific  idea  of  penitence  for  sin,  does  not  always,  nor 
necessarily.    See  De  Wette,  Christian  Morals,  Vol.  i.  p.  1!  2.— Tk.] 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


SECTION  IX. 

'Concluding  Remarks. — Jesus  is  the  only  perfect  man.  —  Dependence  of  "De- 
part of  our  nature  upon  another. —  Intellectual  character  of  Jesus. —  His 
testimony  concerning  the  origin  of  his  doctrine. — A  revelation  increases 
rather  than  decreases  the  mental  activity  of  the  recipient. — Faith  a  ration- 
al principle. 

Even  in  view,  then,  of  the  preceding  difficulties,  the  conviction  of 
the  pure  sinlessness  of  Jesus  remains  unshaken  ;  and  he  appears  still 
more  clearly  before  the  mind's  eye,  as  the  realized  ideal  of  the  high- 
est spiritual  perfection,  as  the  perfect  image  of  holy,  God-like  hu- 
manity. But  it  is  still  necessary,  that  we  make  some  concluding  re- 
marks, which  are  suggested  by  the  principle  that  we  have  been  en- 
deavoring to  establish. 

In  the  first  place,  Jesus  is  the  only  one,  of  whom  history  testifies 
that  he  has  lived  without  sin,  pure  and  holy,  and  in  respect  of  whom 
the  truth  of  such  testimony  can  be  substantiated.  Of  all  other  men, 
even  the  best  and  noblest  men,  the  most  that  can  be  said  is,  their 
failings  were  outweighed  by  their  virtues ;  but  of  Jesus  we  can 
entertain  the  well-grounded  belief,  that  he  was  altogether  without 
fault  and  defect,  and  was  the  purest  image  of  perfection.  By  this 
he  stands  out  in  the  world's  history,  alone,  as  a  moral  wonder  ;J  and, 
considered  even  as  a  mere  man,  he  is  lifted  up  above  all  other  men, 
whose  common  lot  it  is  to  be  imperfect.  Pure  innocence  and  holi- 
ness make  a  distinction  between  the  character  of  Christ  and  that  of 
all  other  men  ;  a  distinction  not  merely  in  degree,  but  in  kind  also, 
not  for  a  brief  period,  but  forever.  The  moral  consciousness  of  every 
other  mortal,  tells  him  without  gainsaying,  that  he  is  stained  with 
sin.    Fie  feels  the  purity  of  his  soul  tarnished  by  the  remem- 

1  "  A  man,  who  was  suhject,  like  other  mortals,  to  every  temptation  to 
sin,  and  still  fell  not,  was  not  defiled  by  the  slightest  breath  of  iniquity, 
wandered  not  once  in  his  life,  not  even  a  hair's  breadth,  from  the  path  of 
virtue  ;  such  a  man  is  indeed  no  less  a  wonder  in  the  mora!  world,  than  one 
raised  from  the  grave,  and  lilted  up  with  a  visible  body  to  heaven,  is  a  won- 
der in  the  physical  world/'  See  Orklli.  on  the  controversy  between 
Rationalism  and  Supernaturalisin.  p.  26. 


446 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


brance  and  the  continued  operation  of  his  earlier  iniquities.  He  be- 
holds himself  at  all  times  encompassed  with  imperfection,  every 
instant  exposed  to  the  possibility  of  leaving  the  safe  path  of  the 
divine  will ;  and  he  is  compelled  to  renounce  the  hope,  that  he  shall 
attain,  at  least  within  the  limits  of  the  present  life,  perfect  purity  of 
virtue.  On  this  height  of  the  unclouded  spiritual  life,  however, 
Christ  is  exalted.  He  is  the  pattern  of  humanity,  to  which  indeed 
we  may  make  an  approximation,  but  to  which  we  never  completely 
raise  ourselves.  The  figure  of  Jesus  always  moves  above  us  in 
unattainable  purity  and  dignity  ;  and  the  more  we  model  ourselves 
according  to  it,  so  much  the  higher  is  the  standard  it  holds  out  for 
our  endeavors.  Truly  the  distance  which  every  healthy  eye  dis- 
cerns between  ourselves  and  the  Redeemer,  a  distance  which  is 
incalculable  and  which  we  shall  never  entirely  pass  over,  ought 
to  fill  us  all  with  the  deepest  and  holiest  awe  of  his  person.  It  ought 
also  to  make  us  constantly  mindful  of  our  obligation  to  recognize  in 
him  an  intellectual  as  well  as  moral  nature,  which,  in  the  department 
of  ethical  and  religious  truth,  has  an  altogether  superior  degree  of 
knowledge,  and  on  that  account  can  make  altogether  peculiar  pre- 
tensions. But  this  will  be  made  still  clearer  to  us  by  the  second 
consideration  which  follows. 

In  whatever  way  the  faculties  of  the  mind  may  have  been  distin- 
guished and  separated,  still,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  mind  is  not  par- 
titioned out  in  the  frame  work  which  psychology  has  contrived,  but 
is  one  simple  spirit,  which  acts  in  various  directions,  and  exhibits  it- 
self in  various  modes.  The  threads  of  the  undivided,  active  spirit 
are  so  intertwined,  that  every  impression  affects  in  some  way  the 
whole  soul ;  and  every  operation,  even  of  an  apparently  isolated 
power,  stands  in  some  close  connection  with  all  the  remaining  pow- 
ers. Never  can  the  thinking  faculty  be  in  operation,  without  some 
influence  upon  the  feeling  and  the  will ;  nor  can  the  faculty  of  will 
be  in  operation,  without  the  activity  of  the  intellect,  and  an  excite- 
ment of  the  affections.  This  indivisible  oneness  of  spirit  then  being 
considered,  it  is  not  conceivable  that  a  soul  should  stand  at  the  high- 
est point  of  perfection  in  the  department  of  morals  and  religion — 
a  department  which  has  immediate  reference  to  the  will  and  the  con- 
duct,— and  yet  should  be  subjected  to  imperfection  and  fault  in  the 
department  of  thought  and  knowledge.    Perfection  of  act  presuppo- 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


447 


ses  directly  a  like  perfection  of  knowledge,  and  every  defect  in 
knowledge  brings  after  it  a  corresponding  fault  in  act.  Experience 
indeed  shows  us,  that  the  power  of  the  soul  may  be  brought  forward 
principally  in  one  direction,  while  it  suffers  manifest  want  in  other 
directions.  A  man  may,  for  example,  have  an  excellent  moral  char- 
acter, without  especial  culture  of  the  memory,  or  taste  for  the  fine 
arts.  But  there  is  a  radical  self-contradiction  in  supposing  that  in 
the  very  same  province  of  the  spiritual  life,  there  may  be  an  absolute 
perfection  of  practice,  conjoined  with  an  imperfection  of  theory. 
On  the  contrary,  in  this  province  a  practical  faultlessness  presupposes 
a  theoretical.  Our  most  immediate  concern  with  Jesus,  as  the  foun- 
der of  a  religion,  respects  his  moral  and  religious  life  merely  ;  and 
it  is  precisely  here,  if  anywhere,  that  thoughts  and  acts,  theory  and 
practice  stand  in  inseparable  interchange  and  connection.  Every 
sin  operates  upon  our  thoughts,  -  to  dim  them ;  and  every  error  of 
moral  principle  imprints  itself  also,  in  some  way,  upon  the  will  and 
the  conduct.  On  the  other  hand,  clearness  of  knowledge  on  moral 
subjects  exerts  a  purifying  influence  upon  the  will,  and  the  purifica- 
tion of  the  will  makes  still  clearer  the  thoughts  and  the  knowledge. 
Both  applications  of  the  mind,  then,  the  theoretical  and  the  practical, 
meet  together,  ultimately,  at  the  innermost  point  of  the  character, 
and  by  means  of  this  inseparable  connection  between  the  different 
parts  of  the  character,  both  modes  of  applying  the  mind  have,  in  their 
complete  development,  such  a  reciprocal  influence,  that  every  im- 
pression and  every  reaction  in  either  department  is  communicated 
necessarily  to  the  other  department.  If,  therefore,  the  inmost  prin- 
ciples of  the  soul,  in  its  practical  development,  be  pure  and  perfect, 
they  must  be  likewise  pure  and  perfect  in  its  theoretical  development, 
in  the  thoughts,  in  the  knowledge.  The  same  is  true  conversely. 
Holy  innocence  and  unerring  perception  of  the  truth  reciprocally 
imply  each  other.  Jesus  would  not  have  discovered  the  truth  in  its 
full  celestial  purity,  had  not  his  soul  been  free  from  sin  ;  neither 
could  he  have  been  holy,  and  free  from  sin,  without  the  purest  and 
most  perfect  perception  of  religious  truth.  His  moral  and  his  per- 
ceptive powers  must  develop  themselves  in  true  proportions,  in  pure, 
perfect  and  undisturbed  harmony.  If  then  we  confide  firmly  and 
unconditionally  in  the  moral  perfection  of  Jesus,  we  are  obliged  in 
all  reason  to  transfer  the  same  confidence  to  his  knowledge  of  truth, 
and  the  instructions  which  spring  from  it.    If  his  life  is  to  us  a  rule 


448 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


of  moral  perfection,  and  a  perpetual  example,  then  his  declarations 
on  moral  and  religious  subjects  must  be  our  rule  of  belief.  If  Jesus, 
as  we  do  not  doubt,  was  holy  without  a  fault,  so  likewise  was  his 
knowledge  correct  without  an  error.1 

Add  to  this,  there  is  in  a  general  view  somewhat  of  a  contradiction, 
between  the  acknowledgement,  on  the  one  hand,  that  Jesus  was  the 
purest  and  most  elevated  spirit,  and,  on  the  other,  that  he  was  sub- 
ject to  errors  and  weaknesses  in  his  meditation  on  moral  and  reli- 
gious subjects; — to  such  errors  and  weaknesses  as  would  scarcely  ever 
be  chargeable  upon  a  man  of  even  inferior  understanding.2  It  is 
well  known  that  a  venerable  theologian,  now  in  glory,  has  pointed 
out  in  full,  what  peculiarly  noble  qualities  of  mind  and  character  were 
requisite,  to  devise  a  plan  for  the  general  blessedness  of  mankind, 
and  to  accomplish  it  as  it  was  accomplished  by  Jesus.  This  theolo- 
gian supposed  it  unreasonable  to  regard  local  and  temporary  causes, 
and  the  ordinary  methods  of  human  education,  as  sufficient  to  ac- 
count for  the  development  of  that  mind,  which  originally  devised 
such  a  plan  and  executed  it  in  such  a  way.  Hence  he  infers,  that 
Jesus  was  sent  and  sustained  in  an  especial  manner  by  God.  If  now 
we  hesitate  to  follow  Reinhard  in  this  inference,3  we  must  still  con- 
sider it  as  a  fact  universally  acknowledged,  that  we  are  not  only  al- 
lowed, but,  as  rational  beings,  are  absolutely  obliged  to  reverence 
most  deeply  the  mind  from  which  the  new,  all-embracing  creation 
of  the  christian  system  proceeded.  Indeed  it  was  the  noblest 
thought,  and  the  most  worthy  of  a  divine  being,  to  establish  an  order 
of  things,  by  the  operation  of  which,  all  mankind  in  all  times  and  all 
lands,  even  to  the  remotest  eternity,  may  be  blessed.  The  mind, 
which  was  the  first  to  embrace  all  human  beings  in  its  uncontracted 
view,  the  heart  which  was  the  first  to  beat  for  the  salvation  of  the 
whole  human  brotherhood,  must  be  called  great,  if  anything  can  de- 
serve that  name.  Nothing  but  a  union  of  the  greatest  intellect  with 
the  most  expanded  heart  made  such  a  thought  possible.    And  noble 

1  Consult  Schleiermacher's  Dog-mat.  2.  p.  223,  and  in  other  places;  also 
his  fourth  Feast-day  Sermon,  referred  to  above,  especially  p.  96. 

2  [No  private  individual,  of  ordinary  powers  of  mind,  would,  while  in  fact 
imperfect,  have  made  such  pretensions  as  Christ  made  to  perfect  virtue  ; 
would  have  been  so  ignorant  of  his  true  character,  and  of  his  relations  to  the 
divine  law  :  or  would  have  demanded  such  respect  and  reverence  from  oth- 
ers.] 

3  [See  Reinhard's  Plan,  particularly  Part  III.  and  Appendix  F. — Tr.] 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS.  449 

as  was  the  thought,  the  expression  of  it  was  equally  bright  and  glo- 
rious. The  brief,  unostentatious,  and  altogether  spiritual  activity  of 
Jesus  has  produced  the  deepest  and  the  most  wide-spread  effects, 
for  nearly  two  thousand  years.  These  effects  have  extended  over  a 
great  portion  of  mankind ;  and  even  now  warrant  the  lively  hope, 
that  they  will  be  extended,  in  still  wider  circles,  over  the  whole  race, 
and  will  carry  freedom  of  spirit  and  the  truths  of  a  divine  life  to  the 
most  distant  people.  Never  was  there  wrought  a  greater,  more  fun- 
damental, more  comprehensive  change  for  the  better,  than  that 
wrought  by  Jesus.  At  least,  therefore,  we  are  intellectually  com- 
pelled to  acknowledge,  that  he  possessed  a  mind  of  the  most  pro- 
found and  extensive  views,  and  one  from  which  effects  have  gone 
forth,  that  surpass  everything  in  the  history  of  the  world,  for  purity, 
goodness  and  extent.  Could  now  this  greatest  of  men,  with  all  his 
superiority  of  mental  power,  have  been  subject  to  the  common  er- 
rors of  his  time  ? — for  to  suppose  that  he  accommodated  himself  to 
them  with  the  conviction  that  they  were  errors,  would  imply  that  the 
origin  of  Jesuitism  may  be  traced  back  to  Jesus  himself, — could  the 
greatest  clearness  of  thought  have  coexisted  with  fanaticism  and  with 
dimness  and  confusion  of  view  ?  Would  not,  rather,  everything  in 
the  province  of  morals  and  religion,  and  especially  would  not  his  re- 
lation to  the  Godhead,  have  been  clear  and  plain  to  him  ?  But  this 
mind,  be  it  remembered,  which  conceived  the  great  scheme  that  has 
blessed  our  race,  protested  in  repeated  instances  and  in  various  forms, 
that ■  his  instructions  were  not  from  himself  but  from  God,  who  sent 
him  ;  he  spoke  not  his  own  words,  but  what  the  Father  commanded 
him  to  teach,  that  only  did  he  communicate  to  men.''  With  the 
same  high  self-confidence,  which  he  displayed  in  speaking  of  his 
unspotted  holiness,  he  declared  that 4  he  came  into  the  world  for  the 
purpose  of  testifying  to  the  truth/  yea  he  designated  himself  express- 
ly as  '  the  Truth  V  All  these  expressions  are  found  in  the  simplest 
prosaic  style  ;  and  are  almost  universally  so  unambiguous,  that,  with- 
out a  mingling  of  a  priori  principles  in  the  interpretation,  they  would 
never  be  misunderstood.  When  Jesus  says  that  he  did  not  come  into 
the  world  of  himself  (ucp  eavrov),  and  did  not  teach  of  himself,  nei- 
ther the  itsus  loquendi,  nor  the  sound,  simple  intent  of  the  passage, 
properly  allows  us  to  restrict  the  expression  to  this,  that  he  did  not 
teach  with  the  desire  and  intention  of  aggrandizing  himself ;  but  the 
meaning  is,  that  he  came  and  taught  for  the  furtherance  of  the  di- 

57 


450 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


vine  plan.  Wherever  then  the  phrase  acp  kavtov  XaXuv,  or  a  similar 
one  occurs,  especially  in  the  New  Testament,  it  always  denotes  an 
expression,  act,  or  something  else,  which  proceeds  from  one's  own 
merely  subjective  conviction,  authority  and  power  ;  in  contradistinc- 
tion from  a  remark  or  an  act  which  proceeds  from  the  authority, 
and  under  the  influence  of  another.  Precisely  the  same  meaning  is 
to  be  adopted,  when  Jesus  very  plainly  contrasts  the  instruction  and 
the  deed,  which  proceed  from  himself  (ay  eaviov),  with  the  teaching 
of  that  which  he  had  received  from  God,  and  the  performance  of 
that  for  which  he  had  been  commissioned  and  endowed  by  God. 
Equally  unambiguous  is  the  expression,  "  my  doctrine  is  not  mine, 
but  his  that  sent  me."  The  meaning  is,  1  my  doctrine  in  its  essen- 
tial import  was  not  conceived,  discovered,  developed  by  me,  as  a 
mere  human  being,  and  according  to  the  laws  of  my  human  intellect ; 
neither  is  it  promulged  barely  on  my  own  authority ;  but  it  origina- 
ted from  God,  it  sprung  up  under  his  influence  and  is  confirmed  by 
his  authority.11  Had  Jesus  simply  said, '  my  doctrine  is  divine,1  the 
meaning  might  perhaps  have  been  explained  thus, '  I  have  not  come 
without  a  preparation  from  God  for  the  doctrines  which  I  teach,  and 
these  doctrines  are  fully  worthy  of  God.1  On  this  supposition,  then, 
the  instructions  which  the  Saviour  might  have  originated  and  arrang- 
ed by  his  mere  human  intellect,  were  declared  by  him  to  be  of  di- 
vine origin,  simply  because  they  were  the  truth,  and  perhaps  also  be- 
cause he  had  ascertained  their  truth  providentially,  as  it  is  called,  or 
in  other  words,  under  that  general  divine  guidance,  which  extends  to 
all  who  make  discoveries  in  science,  and  advance  the  cause  of  vir- 
tue. But  such  an  hypothesis  is  refuted  by  the  plain  and  decisive 
contrast,  not  mine,  but  God^.  In  this  phraseology  the  origin  of 
Chrises  instructions  from  his  own  human  intellect  is  obviously  placed 
in  opposition  to  their  having  originated  from  the  Deity  ;  their  origin 
from  the  former  source  is  denied,  from  the  latter  asserted.  It  is 
therefore  maintained  by  Jesus  himself,  and  in  the  full  sense  of  the 
terms,  that  his  instructions  were  derived  from  God. 

1  Much  that  might  be  said  on  this  subject,  has  been  so  thoroughly  discus- 
sed in  two  recent  works,  that  no  further  elucidation  is  needed.  A  complete 
argument,  and  one  extending  into  very  minute  particulars,  is  given  by  SUs- 
kind,  in  his  historical  and  exegetical  Inquiry,  In  what  sense  did  Jesus  assert 
the  Divinity  of  his  Religious  and  Moral  Instructions? — A  shorter  exegetical 
solution  is  given  by  Schott,  in  his  Letters  on  Religion  and  the  Christian 
Revelation.  Jena,  1826,  p.  115  seq. 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS.  451 

When  Christ  says,  further,  that  he  came  '  to  bear  witness  to  the 
truth,  that  he  himself  is  the  Truth,11  he  employs  the  word,  truth,  not 
by  any  means  to  denote  a  moral  system,  which,  though  excellent, 
is  mingled  somewhat  with  the  errors,  follies,  and  superstitions  of  his 
age ;  but  he  employs  it  to  denote  the  complete  system  of  pure  and 
authentic  doctrine  ;  he  intends  to  assert,  that  he  makes  known  to  men 
all  the  knowledge  of  moral  and  religious  truth  which  they  need, 
and  which  will  at  the  same  time  make  them  blessed,  if  it  be  receiv- 
ed in  its  vitality. 

If  we  will  not  trust  the  simple  assurance  of  Jesus,  we  must  main- 
tain that  a  fanatical  self-delusion  led  him  to  ascribe  to  God  the  origin 
of  doctrines,  which,  in  their  spirit  and  essential  import,  he  had  dis- 
covered and  proclaimed  by  the  force  of  his  own  genius.  We  must 
reply  however  to  such  a  charge,  that  a  self-delusion,  like  this,  does 
not  comport  with  the  clear,  discreet  and  penetrating  mind  of  the 
Saviour.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  that  such  a  mind  as  his  might 
distinguish  easily,  between  that  which  developed  itself  from  the  depths 
of  his  own  soul,  by  the  use  of  his  own  powers,  and  that  which  came 
to  him  from  another  and  higher  source.  Knowing  that  he  could 
clearly  make  this  distinction,  we  should  expect  nothing  else  than 
that  he  would  truly  and  plainly  communicate  to  us  what  he  believed 
to  be  the  fact.  At  all  events,  no  one  but  himself  was  able  to  give 
satisfactory  information  about  the  origin  and  source  of  his  instruc- 
tions ;  none  but  he  knew  his  own  inward  condition,  and  the  relation 
of  his  spirit  to  the  Spirit  of  all  spirits.  The  testimony  of  so  great 
and  clear-minded  a  lover  of  truth  should,  then,  have  more  weight 
with  us  than  all  the  theories  which  can  be  fabricated,  after  the 
lapse  of  eighteen  hundred  years.  Must  not  Jesus  have  known  what 
existed  and  took  place  within  himself,  better  than  we  know  ?  Must 
not  the  self-consciousness  of  so  extraordinary  a  mind,  when  it  ex- 
pressed itself  about  its  internal  history,  have  a  more  decisive 
voice  than  our  own  surmises  and  thoughts  upon  the  subject  ? 

We  have  no  desire  to  investigate  here  the  manner  in  which  di- 
vine truth  was  communicated  to  Jesus,  nor  the  internal  connection 
which  subsisted,  in  this  respect,  between  his  spirit  and  the  Father. 
Even  Jesus  himself  gives  us  no  decisive  information  on  this  subject. 
It  is  not  essential  to  know  the  mode,  in  which  he  obtained  his  doc- 
trines ;  it  is  only  essential  to  know  the  fact,  that  these  doctrines 
1  See  Note  K,  at  the  close. 


452 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


were  from  God ;  that  in  their  essential  import  they  were  the  pro- 
duct, not  of  a  mere  human  mind,  contracted,  subject  to  error,  but  of 
the  Divine  Mind,  which  is  absolutely  true,  which  is  the  perfect  Rea- 
son. But  in  whatever  way  we  may  seek  to  determine  the  precise 
manner  in  which  truth  was  revealed  to  Jesus,  it  seems  to  me  by  no 
means  necessary  to  suppose,  that  the  individual  activity  of  his  soul 
was  in  any  manner  superseded  by  the  fact  of  his  being  inspired,  and 
that  he  was  reduced  to  a  mere  passive  instrument.  On  the  other 
hand  I  am  fully  convinced,  that  the  idea  of  receiving  supernatural 
revelations  from  God,  perfectly  agrees  with  the  supposition  of  the 
freest,  liveliest,  and  most  exalted  mental  activity  in  the  recipient. 
Every  communication  to  the  intellect  is  designed  and  adapted  to  ex- 
cite and  invigorate  it ;  and  provided  the  communication  be  of  a  pro- 
per kind,  it  advances  the  soul  to  a  purer  knowledge  and  an  elevated 
life.  It  can  be  no  otherwise  with  that  form  of  communication  to  the 
intellect,  which  we  call  revelation ;  and  plainly,  if  we  suppose  the 
receiver  of  such  revelation  to  be  merely  passive,  we  introduce  into 
the  idea  something  entirely  impertinent.  If  we  cannot  conceive  of 
the  primitive  act  of  revelation,  as  performed  otherwise  than  by  means 
of  the  inspired  man's  own  activity, — and  this  activity  purified,  ex- 
alted, ennobled  by  being  thus  employed  ;  so  neither  can  we  suppose, 
that  the  truths  thus  revealed,  can  be  propagated  without  the  indivi- 
dual activity  of  the  minds  to  which  they  are  addressed.  Never  are 
the  truths  of  revelation  properly  received  by  us,  without  the  free  ex- 
ercise of  our  own  mental  powers.  Such  a  reception  of  them  always 
tends  to  exalt,  purify,  and  invigorate  the  whole  intellectual  life,  and 
the  rational  thought  not  less  than  the  pure  sentiment  and  will. 

Faith,  therefore,  in  Jesus  and  his  instructions,  when  it  is  of  the 
right  character,  is  not  a  blind,  limping,  spiritless  deference  to  mere 
authority  ;  it  is  a  new  germ  of  life,  which  is  planted  in  our  spirits, 
so  that,  in  its  free  unfolding,  it  may  bring  forth  the  richest  blossoms 
and  fruits.  We  may  indeed  be  justified  in  yielding  to  the  bare  word 
of  him,  who,  unlike  every  other  man,  is  perfectly  innocent  and  holy, 
and  therefore,  in  the  knowledge  of  divine  things,  unerring.  This  is 
a  kind  of  faith,  however,  which  is  not  blind,  and  does  not  sacrifice 
the  reason  of  man.  It  is  founded  directly  on  our  rational,  our  moral 
constitution ;  and  on  the  sound  principle,  that  a  soul  which  is  per- 
fectly sinless  and  good,  which  dwells  in  the  purest  union  with  Deity, 
will  be  capable  of  a  clearness  and  a  perfection  of  religious  know- 


SINLESS  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS. 


ledge,  such  as  no  other  intellect  can  attain.  And  if,  penetrated  with 
this  persuasion,  we  receive  certain  instructions  as  true,  which  Jesus 
gave,  receive  them  at  first  barely  for  the  sake  of  the  person  who 
gave  them ;  yet  by  no  means  are  we  precluded,  by  this  faith,  from 
subsequently  retaining  the  same  truths  on  the  ground  of  their  inhe- 
rent excellence,  for  their  own  sake  as  well  as  their  author's  :  nor  are 
we  precluded  from  searching  after  the  inward  principles  which  sup- 
port them.  Far  from  it.  There  is,  on  the  one  hand,  in  the  spiritual 
truths  themselves,  which  the  Bible  exhibits,  something  that  allures 
to  still  further  development ;  something  that  has  a  quickening  in- 
fluence on  the  mind ;  and,  so  far  forth,  revelation  is  incessantly  ef- 
fecting an  improvement  in  the  intellectual  character  of  the  race. 
There  is,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  mind  itself,  a  necessity  of  work- 
ing over,  in  its  own  thoughts,  the  truth  that  is  presented  to  it,  and  of 
making  continual  advances  from  what  is  obscure  to  what  is  obvious. 
In  no  way,  however,  can  that  which  we  believe  on  the  bare  authori- 
ty of  Jesus,  contravene  the  laws  of  our  own  intellect.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  ever  feel  ourselves  bound  to  receive  his  doctrines,  under 
the  previous  supposition,  that  they  are  the  outflowings  of  the  highest, 
the  absolute,  the  divine  Reason,  from  which  have  proceeded  not  only 
these  truths,  but  also  the  nature,  the  laws,  and  the  necessities  of  our 
own  narrow,  but  yet  divinely-related  intellect.  We  feel  assured 
that  there  is  a  preestablished  harmony  between  revelation  and  the 
human  soul ;  and  we  are  convinced  that  there  will  be  discovered,  at 
the  last,  a  most  exact  agreement  between  the  truths  revealed  by  the 
divine  reason,  and  the  laws  which  regulate  the  human.  It  must  be 
understood,  however,  as  a  condition  of  this  agreement,  that  the  hu- 
man reason  is  to  be  in  the  right  train  of  investigation  ;  of  pure-mind- 
ed investigation,  originating  from  the  noblest  cravings  of  the  soul, 
excited  by  God-like  impulses  of  truth,  and  therefore  equally  pro- 
found and  modest. 


454 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 

NOTE  A,  Page  392. 

The  argument  drawn  from  the  moral  character  of  the  writers  and  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Bible,  appears  to  increase  in  its  relative  importance,  as  the  sen- 
sibilities of  mew  become  more  refined.  There  are  multitudes,  whose  atten- 
tion must  be  aroused  by  the  exhibition  of  wonders,  and  whose  heart  must 
be  assaulted  violently,  or  it  will  not  be  benefited  at  all.  But  there  are  others, 
who  are  more  effectually  subdued  by  the  still  small  voice.  The  argument 
from  miracles,  meeting  as  it  does  a  demand  of  the  human  soul,  is  by  no 
means  to  be  undervalued  ;  and  yet  this  is  not  the  kind  of  proof,  to  which 
the  majority  of  cordial  believers  in  the  Bible  are,  at  the  present  day,  most 
attached.  They  have  neither  the  time  nor  the  ability  to  form  an  estimate  of 
the  historical  evidence,  that  favors  or  opposes  the  actual  occurrence  of  mir- 
acles. They  know  the  Bible  to  be  true,  because  they  feel  it  to  be  so.  The 
excellence  of  its  morality,  like  a  magnet,  attracts  their  souls  ;  and  sophis- 
try, which  they  cannot  refute,  will  not  weaken  their  faith,  resulting  as  it 
does  from  the  accordance  of  their  higher  nature  with  the  spirit  of  the  Bible. 
The  internal  argument  in  favor  of  Christianity  is  also  recommended  by  its 
moral  influence.  The  full  exhibition  of  it  is  a  melting  appeal  to  the  heart ; 
and  as  the  heart  becomes  the  more  susceptible,  the  argument  becomes  the 
more  convincing.  With  the  unlettered  Christian,  then,  the  moral  evidence  for 
the  Bible  is  the  more  effectual,  because  the  more  simple  ;  with  the  educated 
Christian  it  is  so,  because  the  more  dignified.  It  may  be  questioned,  indeed, 
whether  the  argument  from  miracles  is  not  logically  dependent,  for  its  com- 
plete force,  on  its  connection  with  the  argument  from  the  moral  nature  of 
Christianity.  Was  not  the  former  argument  designed  to  operate  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  latter  ;  and  does  it  not,  when  severed  from  that  union,  fail  to 
afford  full  conviction  ?  We  have  read  of  wonders  performed  ostensibly  for 
a  bad  object,  and  also  of  wonders  performed  in  mere  frivolity.  Can  any 
evidence  whatever,  in  favor  of  these  anomalies,  fully  convince  the  mind  of 
their  real  occurrence,  as  miracles?  Can  we  be  fully  satisfied,  that  miracles 
have  occurred,  while  we  view  them  as  mere  naked  phenomena,  abstracted 
from  their  connection  with  a  divine  government,  from  any  and  every  moral 
object  to  be  attained  by  them  ?  As  the  proof  of  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible 
is,  in  the  logical  order,  subsequent  to  the  proof  of  the  existence  and  govern- 
ment of  God,  we  certainly  have  a  right  to  decline  a  controversy  on  the 
former  subject,  until  our  opponent  has  conceded  the  fundamental  truths  re- 
lating to  the  latter.  When  he  has  conceded  these,  we  may  connect  with 
them  the  external  argument  for  inspiration.  The  controversy  between 
Campbell  and  Hume  shows  the  disadvantage,  under  which  any  one  must 
labor,  who  attempts  to  prove  the  occurrence  of  miracles  as  insulated  facts, 
or  to  dispute  on  their  credibility  with  one  who  denies  the  first  principles  of 


i  JPi 

NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR.  555 

natural  religion.  And  when  Campbell  intermingles  with  the  abstract  dis- 
cussion, as  he  often  does,  references  to  the  actual  or  possible  design  of  a  mo- 
ral Governor  in  producing  the  disputed  phenomena,  he  maybe  censured  per- 
haps for  diverging  from  the  line  of  argument,  which  he  at  first  intended  to 
pursue  ;  but  may  be  approved  for  practically  acknowledging,  that  wonders, 
so  great  as  those  recorded  in  the  Bible,  must  be  viewed  in  some  connection 
with  a  worthy  moral  end  to  be  answered  by  them,  or  they  will  not  command 
the  full  assent  of  the  intellect.  Consult,  however,  on  the  general  subject, 
Hume's  Ess.  on  Mir.,  and  Campbell's  Reply.  Erskine  on  Int.  Ev.  pp.  110 
— 129.  Brown  on  Cause  and  Effect,  Notes  E.  and  F.  Paley's  Ev.  (Prep. 
Consid).  Price's  Diss.  pp.  384 — 464.  Butler's  Anal.  II.  7.  Starkie  on  Evi- 
dence, I.  pp.  471—475.  Whateley's  Rhet.  P.  I.  Ch.  2.  §  4,  and  3.  §  4. 
Abercrombie  on  Int.  Powers,  P.  2.  S.  3,  particularly  pp.  77 — 80. 

NOTE  B,  p.  394. 

The  following  explanation  of  terms,  which  is  taken  from  Bretschneider's 
Entwickelung,  §  90.  pp.  520 — 524,  may  throw  light  upon  the  phraseology  of 
Ullmann,  in  this,  and  in  subsequent  parts  of  his  treatise.  "  Sin,  peccatum, 
denotes,  in  the  theological  usage,  sometimes  a  property  (or  attribute)  of  the 
free  being  himself,  sometimes  a  property  of  his  feelings  and  acts.  The  for- 
mer is  sin  in  the  abstract ;  the  latter,  sin  in  the  concrete.  (Cicero,  paradox. 
111.  says,  "  to  sin  is,  as  it  were,  to  pass  over  the  lines  ;  the  doing  of  which  is 
cause  of  blame."  Peccare  therefore  is  the  same  as  naqa^aivsiv .  Salmasius 
derives  peccatum  and  peccare  from  pecus  :  "  more  pecudum,  sine  ratione 
agere."  Gellius,  however,  and  Isidorus  derive  it  from  pellicatus,  because 
adultery  was  first  called  sin  by  the  ancients,  and  the  name  was  afterward 
extended  to  all  kinds  of  iniquity.)  Sin,  in  the  abstract,  is  the  want  of  coin- 
cidence between  the  state  of  free  beings  and  the  commands  of  God,  or,  which 
is  the  same  thing,  the  object  for  which  those  beings  were  created.  It  is  "  il- 
legality, or  want  of  conformity  with  the  law,"1  Calov.  V.  p.  14,  or  "  the  want 
of  agreement  with  the  law,"2  Reinhard,  Dogm.  p.  267.  [<  He  is  said  to  sin,' 
says  Henke,  1  who  deviates  from  the  divine  law  either  in  feeling  or  in  action. 
The  rule  of  right  is  the  divine  law,  or  the  pleasure  of  God  made  known  to 
men,  concerning  that  which  is  to  be  done  or  avoided.  Bret.  Dogm.  II.  pp. 
5,  6.— Tr.]  Perhaps,  however,  the  term  vitiosity  rather  than  the  term  sin 
should  be  applied  to  the  abstract  idea ;  the  term  sin  being  most  frequently 
used  in  the  concrete.  [See  Note  G,  following.— Tr.]  This  simple  and  pop- 
ular idea  is  expressed  by  John,  1st  Epist.  3:  4,  "  sin  is  the  transgression  of 
the  law  ;"  and  all  the  terms  employed  in  the  Scriptures  respecting  sin,  in- 
clude the  distinctive  mark  of  opposition  to  the  law,  over-stepping  the  rule, 
or  disobedience  to  the  rule.  Thus  the  most  usual  word,  a^iaqxdvuv  means 
"  to  miss  one's  aim,"  and  Suidas  explains  the  word  dfiaQtia  by  the  phrase, 

1  Illegalitas,  aut  difformitas  a  lege. 
3  Absentia  convenience  cum  lege. 


456 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


failure  from  moral  good,  aberration  from  the  right  path,  from  one's  aim.3 
The  same  is  also  expressed  by  the  Hebrew  start  .  Other  expressions  are 
y,y  ,  that  which  is  perverted,  crooked,  deviating  from  rule  ;2  rtAiSj  ,  error, 
wandering  from  the  right  aim  and  way  ;  y-i  ,  xayu'a,  novriqia,  that  which  is 
wrong  in  itself,  bringing  perdition  ;  ytn  ,  making  confusion,  worthy  of  pun- 
ishment. Particularly  deserving  of  notice  are  the  figurative  terms  denoting 
a  falling  away  from  the  law,  or  a  stepping  over  it,  as  y<gt  ,  Tito. ,  rtSititt  , 
^SHQ  ,  naqaTiToy^ia,  7rct(jdflaoi?,  aizooraaia,  TzaQanorjy  and  such  like.  But  sin 
is  not  only  predicated  of  acts  which  are  contrary  to  the  law,  but  also  of  feel- 
ings, as  in  Matt.  9:  4.  Mark  7:  21,  and  of  the  whole  state  of  the  man,  so  far 
as  it  does  not  agree  with  the  commands  of  God  ;  Rom.  7:  17.  5: 12.  6: 1  seq. 
1  John  1:  8.  John  8:  34. 

Sin.  in  the  concrete,  is  every  feeling  or  act  of  a  free  being,  which  is  con- 
trary to  the  known  law  ;  il  the  free  motions  and  actions  that  are  not  in  agree- 
ment with  the  divine  law."3  Doederlein,  Inst.  Vol.  II.  p.  99. 

In  a  more  exact  development  of  the  idea  of  sin,  we  must  distinguish  be- 
tween the  material  of  it,  and  the  formal.  The  material  implies  a  law  given 
or  promulged,  (Rom.  4:  15.  5:  3),  and  a  feeling  or  deed  at  variance  with  it. 
This  has  also  been  called  objective  sin  (Doederlein,  Inst.  11.  p.  100)  ;  and  to 
it  belong  all  those  feelings  and  acts,  which  we  exercise  or  perform  while  we 
are  not  in  a  state  of  moral  freedom.4  Perhaps  this  might  be  called  metaphy- 
sical sin.  The  formal  consists  in  the  knowledge  of  the  law,  and  such  a  de- 
viation from  the  law,  as  is  made  in  the  exercise  of  free  will,  i.  e.  in  a  ration- 
al state.  The  formal  is  subjective  sin,  which  the  man  must  also  acknowledge 
to  be  sin  ;  or  it  is  moral,  such  as  may  be  imputed.  From  the  formal  origi- 
nates guilt ;  reatus,  that  is  "  the  state  of  being  obnoxious  to  punishment,  or 
to  the  suffering  which  proceeds  from  fault."5  (Mosheim,  Elem.  Theolog. 
Dogmat.  1.  p.  589.)  This  guilt  (exposedness  to  punishment)  follows  from 
the  imputation  of  the  sin  ;  i.  e.  "  from  the  judgment,  in  which  we  affirm 
that  any  one  is  the  author  of  anything,  which  was  done  deliberately,"6  Rein- 
hard,  Dogm.  p.  291,  or  the  "  judgment  by  which  any  one  is  held  chargeable 
with  a  fault."7  [For  an  explanation  of  this  distinction  between  the  mate- 
rial and  the  formal,  see  also  Bretschneider,  Dogm.  Vol.  II.  p.  5.  See  Rom. 
4:  15.  5.  13—  Tr.] 

The  opposite  of  sin  is  virtue,  or  the  harmonious  relation  of  our  feelings 
and  acts  to  the  divine  law.  It  is  piety,  the  fear  of  God  (pietas,  tvalfitia., 
cpoftog  tov&sov),  if  reverence  for  God,  and  desire  to  please  him,  which  is 

1  "H  rov  dya&ov  aitorvyLa,  aberratio  a  recto,  a  scopo. 

2  Abnorme. 

3  Motuset  actus  liberi  legi  divinae  haud  consentanei. 

4  Deren  wir  uns  in  einem  unfreien  Zustande  schuldig  machen. 

5  Obligatio  ad  poenam,  aut,  obligatio  ad  malum  sustinendum,  quod  ex 
culpa  nascitur. 

6  Judicium,  quo  affirmamus,  aliquem  esse  rei  cujusdam,in  quam  delibera- 
te cadit  auctorem. 

7  Judicium  quo  quia  culpae  reus  habetur. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR.  457 

holiness,  (ayioovvrjj  sanctimonia),  if  the  feeling  of  the  absolute  worthiness  of 
virtue  and  the  unworthiness  of  sin  be  tbe  ruling  motive.  In  virtue  also,  as 
in  sin,  we  may  distinguish  the  matter  and  the  form.  This  distinction  may 
also  be  expressed  by  the  words  legality  and  morality,  illegality  and  immo- 
rality. Legality  is  the  agreement  of  our  actions  with  the  law  ;  morality  is 
that  harmony  of  our  actions  with  the  law,  which  proceeds  from  motives  that 
have  a  moral  character.  This  distinction  is  designated  in  the  symbolical 
books  by  the  expressions,  justitia  civilis,  and  justitia  spiritualis  ;  and  also, 
justitia  externa,  and  justitia  interna.  By  the  former  term  is  understood  the 
external  decency  of  the  act,  according  to  which  it  agrees  with  the  law  ;  by 
the  latter,  the  internal  morality  of  the  act.  according  to  which  it  proceeds 
from  a  knowledge  of  God,  and  of  goodness,  and  from  pure  love  to  both." 

Though  we  would  not  be  considered  as  resting  on  the  authority  of  Bret- 
schneider,  we  would  simply  repeat  the  substance  of  his  definitions,  so  far  as 
they  affect  our  present  object.  It  appears,  then,  that  all  "  subjective  sin,"  all 
"  moral  sin,"  all  such  sin  as  can  be  imputed  tc  the  sinner  as  blame-worthy, 
consists  in  1,  an  act;  2,  a  voluntary  act;  3,  a  voluntary  act  in  violation  of 
law;  4,  a  voluntary  act  in  violation  of  known  law;  that  all  other  kinds  of 
sin,  such  for  instance  as  constitutional  tendency,  are  objective  or  metaphysi- 
cal, but  not  moral,  such  as  its  possessor  cannot  charge  upon  himself  as  matter 
of  blame,  though  it  may  subject  him,  as  is  supposed  by  some,  to  punishment. 
Justice,  one  would  think,  must  require  that  the  punishment  for  metaphysi- 
cal sin  be  metaphysical  punishment;  that  putative  ill-desert  be  followed  by 
merely  putative  penalties  ;  or  in  the  words  of  the  schoolmen,  "  aequum  ae- 
quo." If  all  sin  consists  in  sinning,  then  there  may  indeed  be  pain,  but 
there  cannot  be  punishment,  without  a  previous  act  of  the  will  against  known 
law. 

NOTE  C,  p.  395. 

If  the  only  sin,  chargeable  upon  man,  is  "  a  free  act  which  is  opposed  to 
the  divine  law,  or  which  deviates  from  it,"  (Knapp,  Art.  9.  §  73.  1),  and  if 
the  divine  law  requires  every  man  to  love  God  with  the  whole  heart,  then 
it  is  one  and  the  same  thing  to  say,  that  a  man  is  guilty  of  no  sin,  and  to  say 
that  he  perfectly  complies  with  the  requisition  of  supreme  love. — If  the  law 
requires  that,  at  every  moment  of  our  moral  existence,  we  have  some  form 
of  a  desire  to  promote  the  glory  of  God,  then  a  man  who  does  not  deviate 
from  this  law,  must  always  have  some  form  of  a  holy  desire.  The  nature  of 
a  moral  being,  prevents  the  possibility  of  his  avoiding  a  positive  compliance, 
or  else  a  positive  refusal  of  compliance  with  every  known  claim  of  law.  If 
he  be  supposed  to  prefer  a  state  of  neutrality  above  a  state  of  decided  sub- 
jection or  rebellion,  then,  in  that  very  preference,  he  rebels  against  the  com- 
mand to  be  decided  for  God.  If  the  will  of  a  man  be  dormant,  then  the  man, 
considered  merely  in  reference  to  his  state  of  dormancy ,  is  not  a  moral  be- 
ing. If  the  will  be  in  exercise,  then  its  most  innocent  state  is  that  of  choos- 
ing to  be  neither  for  nor  against  God,  rather  than  to  be  against  him  :  and  yet 
58 


458 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


to  choose,  specifically,  not  to  be  for  him,  is  as  real  disobedience  as  to  choose, 
specifically,  to  be  against  him.  The  two  acts  of  choice  are  essentially  the 
choice  of  evil  rather  than  good. 

"  Actual  sins  are  divided  into  sins  of  commission,  i.  e.  positive  sins,  such 
as  are  committed  against  the  law  forbidding;  and  sins  of  omission,  i.  e.  ne- 
gative, such  as  are  committed  against  the  law  commanding.  Reinhard,p. 
313.  Matt.  25:  24 — 30.  42 — 45.  This  division  is  not  accurate,  and  depends 
on  a  difference  in  the  use  of  language,  rather  than  a  difference  in  the  nature 
of  the  thing.  For  every  commission  of  evil  is,  at  the  same  time,  an  omis- 
sion of  the  good  opposed  to  it;  and  vice  versa.  The  distinction  however, 
in  practice,  is  a  useful  one  ;  see  James  4:  17."  Bretschneider,  Entwickelung 
§  91.  1.  a. 

NOTE  D,  p.  396. 

"  If  it  should  be  impossible  for  a  man  to  live  otherwise  than  virtuously,  or 
if  his  virtue  should  be  necessary,  it  would  have  no  value  and  no  merit.  All 
freedom,  in  that  case,  would  vanish.jand  man  would  become  a  mere  machine. 
The  virtue  of  Christ,  then,  in  resisting  steadfastly  all  the  temptations  to  sin, 
acquires  a  real  value  and  merit,  only  on  admission  that  he  could  have  sin- 
ned :"  Knapp's  Theol.  Art.  10.  §  93.  3.  B.  b.  If  then  the  value  of  holiness 
in  a  creature  is  entirely  taken  away  by  the  supposition  of  the  creature's 
absolute  inability  to  sin,  why  does  not  the  same  supposition  of  necessary 
holiness  in  the  Creator  entirely  take  away  the  value  of  that  holiness  ?  Does 
the  impossibility  of  sinning,  ascribed  to  the  Deity  in  Heb.  6:  18,  differ  in 
kind,  or  only  in  degree,  from  the  impossibility  of  doing  right,  ascribed 
to  sinners  in  John  6:  44  ?  Are  there  not,  in  the  Bible  and  elsewhere,  many 
instances  in  which  God  is  with  propriety  represented  as  being  unable,  in  the 
figurative  sense,  to  do  what  he  is,  by  confession  of  all,  able  in  the  literal 
sense  to  do  ?  If  man,  as  a  moral  agent,  was  created  in  the  image  of  God, 
how  can  he  have  a  power  of  doing  what  he  certainly  will  not  do,  while  yet 
his  Prototype  has  no  such  power?  Which  is  the  more  honorable  to 
Jehovah,  to  suppose  that  he  will  always,  with  infallible  certainty,  choose,  as 
a  free  agent,  to  do  right,  or  that  he  will  do  right,  because  he  has  no  ability  to 
do  otherwise  ?  Does  notour  author  in  his  remarks  on  the  power  of  acting 
wrong,  which  was  essential  to  Christ  as  a  moral  agent,  seem  to  overlook  that 
certainty  of  acting  right,  which  was  as  infallible  in  Christ,  as  if  he  could  not 
have  acted  otherwise  ? 

Our  sentiment  of  reverence  for  the  Saviour  is  repelled  perhaps  by  the 
assertion,  that  he  could  have  done  wrong ;  but  is  it  not  because  we  associate 
with  the  phrase,  power  to  sin,  some  degree  (however  small)  of  reason  to 
suspect  that  the  power  will  be  exercised  in  actual  sinning?  And  is  there 
anything  repulsive  in  the  statement,  that  every  holy  being  in  the  universe 
has  a  power  to  be  unholy  ;  unless  we  consider  this  power  as  something  more 
than  a  constituent  element  of  moral  agency,  as  something  which  involves 
more  or  less  of  a  reason  to  suspect,  that  what  can  be,  will  in  fact  be  ?  It  is 
perfectly  easy,  as  it  should  seem,  to  keep  distinct  the  two  ideag  of  an  agent's 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


459 


ability  to  act  either  way,  right  or  wrong,  and  an  uncertainty  whether  be 
will  act  in  this  or  that  way,  right  or  wrong;  it  is  perfectly  consistent  to 
affirm  the  former,  and  to  deny  the  latter  in  reference  to  the  same  being  ; 
to  affirm  the  one,  as  an  element  of  his  moral  nature,  and  to  deny  the  other,  as 
the  excellence  of  his  character.  It  is  from  a  habit  of  confounding  these 
two  ideas  ;  of  supposing  that  a  power  to  act  either  way,  right  or  wrong, 
involves  an  uncertainty  in  which  way  the  being  will  really  act,  that  the  asser- 
tion of  a  power  in  all  the  holy  beings  of  heaven  to  become  unholy,  seems  to 
derogate  from  the  firm  and  ever  undeviating  holiness  of  those  beings.  The 
assertion  should  rather  lead  us  to  reverence  such  exalted  natures,  as,  with 
all  the  liberty  which  moral  agents  can  possess,  will  choose,  will  ever  perse- 
vere in  choosing  the  best  course. 

The  last  sentence  in  the  paragraph  connected  with  this  note,  may  be 
translated  in  the  following  manner.  "  Sinlessness  only  presupposes,  that 
the  development,  which  Jesus  made  of  human  (goodness  or)  virtue,  went  on 
without  any  hindrance  or  interruption,  resulting  from  his  power  to  choose 
between  good  and  evil ;  (or  in  respect  to  his  choosing  between  good  and 
evil.") 

NOTE  E,  pp.  398,  399. 

There  may  be  some  readers  of  this  treatise,  who  are  not  so  familiar,  as 
Ullmann  would  suppose,  with  the  early  heathen  and  Jewish  testimony  re- 
specting the  Messiah.  A  brief  view  of  it  may  be,  therefore,  not  entirely 
useless. 

The  Epistle  of  Abgarus,  King  of  Edessa  to  Jesus,  and  the  Rescript  of  the 
latter  to  the  former,  have  long  been  considered  a  forgery.  The  Acts  of 
Pontius  Pilate,  and  his  Letter  to  Tiberius,  have  likewise  been  so  considered 
by  many.  The  Aets  now  extant  are  doubtless  spurious.  That  Pilate  ever 
gave  to  his  Government  or  to  his  countrymen,  a  written  expression  of  his 
opinion  concerning  the  Messiah,  rests  on  no  authority,  but  that  of  some 
early  christian  writers,  none  of  whom  assert  that  they  had  seen  his  Acts  or 
Letter.  Justin  Martyr  in  his  First  Apology,  about  A.  D.  140,  refers  to  the 
Acts  of  Pilate  twice.  Tertullian  in  his  Apology,  about  A.  D.  200,  says, 
"  Of  all  these  things,"  i.  e.  the  crucifixion  and  resurrection  of  Christ, 
u  Pilate,  in  his  conscience  a  Christian,  sent  an  account  to  Tiberius,  then 
Emperor."  He  also  makes  another  statement,  the  substance  of  which,  is 
contained  in  the  following  abstract  of  a  passage  in  Eusebius.  (Eccl.  Hist. 
B.  2.  Ch.  2.)  This  historian  asserts,  chiefly  however  on  the  poor  authority 
of  Tertullian,  that  as  it  was  customary  for  the  Roman  Governors  to  write  to 
the.  Emperor  an  account  of  any  remarkable  events,  which  had  occurred  within 
their  respective  provinces,  so  Pilate  wrote  to  Tiberius  an  account  of  the 
miracles  of  Christ,  and  of  his  death  and  resurrection  ;  that  Tiberius  conse- 
quently proposed  to  the  Roman  Senate  to  place  Jesus  among  their  gods, 
"  as  he  was  already  believed  by  many  to  be  a  god  ;"  that  the  Senate,  who 
exclusively  had  the  power  to  deify,  refused  assent  to  this  proposal,  their 
alleged  reason  being  the  complimentary  one,  that  Tiberius  himself  had  once 


460 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


declined  the  honor  of  deification;  that  the  Emperor,  though  obliged  to 
acquiesce  in  this  decision,  still  remained  favorable  to  the  Christians,  and 
discouraged  persecution  against  them.  The  evidence  for  and  against  the 
credibility  of  this  narration,  is  given  at  length  in  Lardner's  Works,  Vol.  VI. 
pp.  605 — G20.    Lardner  himself  seems  to  judge  of  it  too  favorably. 

The  five  different  methods,  which  Pilate  adopted  of  showing  his  reluctance 
to  condemn  Jesus,  are  a  sufficient  testimony  of  his  esteem  for  the  character 
of  his  prisoner ;  and  are  so  much  the  more  convincing,  as  his  moral 
sensibilities  were  not  such  as  to  be  excited  by  any  ordinary  exhibitions  of 
virtue.  When  we  consider  the  irascibility  of  his  temper,  and  the  indepen- 
dent spirit  of  Christ's  replies  to  him,  it  seems  probable  that  he  would  not 
have  brooked  such  answers  from  any  man  of  less  commanding  virtue.  But 
of  Pilate's  character,  more  will  be  said  at  the  close  of  this  note. 

The  notices,  which  the  Roman  historians  have  given  of  Christ  and  his 
system,  furnish  less  of  direct  information,  than  of  matter  for  inference. 
What  they  say  of  Christianity  will  suggest  their  opinion  of  its  author. 

Tacitus,  speaking  of  "  Pomponia  Graecina,  a  lady  of  eminent  quality," 
says  that  she  was  "  accused  of  practising  a  foreign  superstition,"  (super- 
stitionis  externae  rea),Ann.  B.  XIII.  ch.  32.  This  "  foreign  superstition"  is 
supposed  by  Lipsius,  and  others,  to  have  meant  the  christian  religion. — Again, 
after  speaking  of  the  great  fire' at  Rome  in  the  year  64,  he  says,  Nero  "  in- 
flicted the  most  cruel  punishments  upon  those  people  who  were  held  in  ab- 
horrence for  their  crimes,  and  whom  the  common  people  called  Christians. 
They  received  their  name  from  Christus,  who,  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius,  was 
put  to  death  as  a  criminal  by  the  Procurator,  Pontius  Pilate.  This  pernicious 
superstition,  though  checked  for  a  while,  broke  out  again,  and  spread,  not 
only  over  Judea,  the  source  of  this  evil,  but  reached  the  city  of  Rome  also, 
whither  flow  from  all  quarters,  all  things  vile  and  shameful,  and  where  they 
are  practised  (celebrantur).  At  first  they  only  were  apprehended,  who  con- 
fessed themselves  of  that  sect;  afterwards,  by  their  information,  a  vast 
multitude  were  apprehended  ;  and  they  were  condemned,  not  so  much  for 
the  crime  of  burning  the  city,  as  for  their  enmity  to  mankind." — "  At  length 
these  men,  though  really  criminal  and  deserving  exemplary  punishment, 
began  to  be  commiserated  ;  as  people  who  were  destroyed  not  from  regard 
to  the  public  welfare,  but  merely  to  gratify  the  cruelty  of  one  man."  Ann. 
B.  XV.  Ch.  44.  The  enmity  to  the  human  race,  of  which  Tacitus  accuses 
the  Christians,  is  probably  nothing  more  than  their  neglect  of  the  common 
Pagan  worship,  and  the  apparent  singularity  of  their  religious  faith. 

Suetonius  says  of  Claudius,  "  He  banished  the  Jews  from  Rome,  who 
were  continually  making  disturbances,  Chrestus  being  their  leader."  Life  of 
Claud.  Ch.  25.  See  Acts  18:  2.  Christ  was  often  called  Chrestus  by  the 
Romans ;  and  the  Jews  and  Christians,  (Chrestiani  as  they  were  often 
called),  were  regarded,  by  Pagans  generally,  as  one  and  the  same  class.  In 
his  life  of  Nero,  Ch.  16,  Suetonius  says,  "  The  Christians  were  punished  ; 
a  sort  of  men  of  a  new  and  magical  superstition  ;"  (superstitionis  novae  et 
maleficae  ;  which  last  word  Mosheim  considers  equivalent  to  the  word, 
exitiabilis,  in  the  above-quoted  passage  from  Tacitus,  and  there  translated 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


461 


pernicious.)  Suetonius  speaks,  with  apparent  complacency,  of  the  persecu- 
tions which  the  Christians  endure  d 

Pliny  the  Younger,  in  his  celebrated  letter  to  the  Emperor  Trajan,  written 
A.  D.  107,  expresses  himself  with  an  indefiniteness  like  that  of  the  preceding 
historians,  in  reference  to  "  the  contagion  of  the  (Christian)  superr-tition." 
He  says,  that  he  has  never  been  present  at  any  of  the  trials  of  Christians, 
and  therefore  does  not  exactly  know  what  is  the  subject  matter  of  punish- 
ment, or  of  inquiry.  He  does  not  know  whether  men  ought  to  be  punished 
merely  for  the  fact  that  they  bear  the  name  of  Christians,  when  they  are 
detected  in  no  crime,  or  whether  they  should  be  punished  for  nothing  but 
the  crimes  connected  with  the  name.  Some  who  have  been  arraigned  as 
Christians,  he  says,  recanted  their  principles  at  the  trial,  repeated  an 
invocation  to  the  gods,  made  supplication  to  the  image  of  the  Emperor, 
which,  with  other  statues,  was  brought  out  for  that  purpose,  and  reviled  the 
name  of  Christ :  i:  none  of  which  things,  it  is  reported,  they  who  are 
really  Christians  can  by  any  means  be  compelled  to  do."  He  concludes  his 
letter  with  the  well  known  description  of  the  only  fault  or  error  acknowl- 
edged by  the  new  sect ;  i.  e.  '  their  meeting  on  a  stated  day,  before  light,  and 
singing,  one  after  another,  among  themselves,  a  hymn  to  Christ  as  a  god,' 
their  frequent  partaking  without  any  disorder,  of  a  social  meal,  their  mutual 
pledge  to  commit  no  crime,  etc.  etc. 

The  passages  in  Josephus,  which  allude  to  the  Saviour,  are  found  in  his 
Antiquities,  XVIII.  Ch.3.  §  3.  and  XX.  Ch.  9.  §  1 .  The  former  passage  only 
has  been  deemed  an  interpolation.  The  genuineness  of  it,  however,  has 
been  defended  by  many,  and  with  singular  ability  by  C.  G.  Bretschneider. 
See  Trans,  of  his  defence  in  JBibl.  Repos.  Vol.  IV .  pp.  705 — 711,  and  Ch. 
Spec.  1825.  The  following  are  Bretschneider's  versions  of  the  two  passages. 

"  At  this  time  lived  Jesus,  a  wise  man  ;  if  indeed  it  be  proper  to  call  him 
a  man.  For  he  performed  astonishing  works,  and  was  a  teacher  of  such  as 
delight  in  receiving  the  truth  :  and  drew  to  himself  many  of  the  Jews  and 
many  also  of  the  Gentiles.  This  was  he  who  is  (called)  Christ.  And  when 
Pilate,  at  the  instance  of  the  chief  men  among  us,  had  caused  him  to  be 
crucified,  still  those  who  had  once  loved  him,idid  not  cease  to  love  him. 
For  on  the  third  day  he  again  appeared  unto  them  alive  ;  divine  prophets 
having  foretold  these  and  ten  thousand  other  wonderful  things  respecting 
him.  And  even  to  this  day,  that  class  of  persons,  who  were  called  by  htm 
Christians,  have  not  become  extinct." 

"  Ananus  assembled  a  council  of  judges,  and  having  brought  before  them 
the  brother  of  Jesus,  called  Christ,  (whose  own  name  was  James),  and 
certain  others,  and  having  accused  them  of  violating  the  laws,  he  delivered 
them  over  to  be  stoned." 

The  character  of  Pilate,  a  correct  appreciation  of  which  is  important  for 
understanding  the  history  of  our  Saviour's  trial,  may  be  learned  from 
Winer's  Bib.  Realwdrterbuch,  Art.  Pilate,  and  the  authorities  there  mention- 
ed. The  following  is  a  translation  of  the  passage  in  Philo,  referred  to  on 
page  399,  of  this  volume. 
"  Pilate  was  Procurator  of  Judea.    Not  so  much  out  of  favor  to  Tiberius 


462 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


as  hatred  of  the  Jews,  he  dedicated  gilt  shields,  and  placed  them  in  Herod's 
palace,  within  the  holy  city.  There  was  no  figure  upon  them,  nor  any 
thing  else  that  was  forbidden,  except  a  certain  needful  inscription,  con- 
taining the  name  of  the  person  who  dedicated  them,  and  of  the  person  to 
whom  they  were  dedicated. — When  this  transaction  was  noised  abroad,  the 
people  petitioned  that  the  shields,  thus  newly  introduced,  might  be  taken 
awa}',  that  their  hereditary  customs,  which  had  been  kept  safe  through  so 
many  ages  by  kings  and  emperors,  might  not  be  violated.  He  opposed  their 
wishes  with  roughness,  as  he  was  a  man  of  inflexible  temper,  arrogant  and 
implacable.  They  then  cried  out,  "  Do  not  you  excite  sedition  and  war  ! 
Do  not  you  put  an  end  to  our  peace  !  The  Emperor  is  not  honored  by 
treating  our  ancient  laws  with  disrespect.  Do  not  make  him,  then,  a  pretext 
for  injuring  our  nation.  He  does  not  wish  to  have  any  of  our  usages 
abolished.  If  you  say  that  you  have  received  any  edict  or  letter,  or  any 
thing  of  the  kind  from  the  Emperor,  produce  it,  that  we  may  cease  troubling 
you  with  the  matter,  and  by  ambassadors  may  entreat  the  Emperor  to  revoke 
his  command."  This  last  exasperated  Pilate  very  much  ;  for  he  was  afraid 
that  if  they  should  send  an  embassy,  they  would  prove  against  him  many 
maladministrations  of  his  government :  his  pronouncing  judgment  under 
the  influence  of  bribes,  his  abusive  conduct,  his  extortion,  his  violence,  his 
injustice,  his  oft-repeated  slaughters  of  men  who  had  not  been  condemned, 
his  inhuman  cruelty.  Feeling  angry  and  implacable,  Pilate  now  could  not 
tell  what  to  do.  On  the  one  hand,  he  neither  dared  to  remove  what  had 
been  dedicated,  nor  was  he  willing  to  do  anything  for  the  gratification  of 
men  who  were  his  subjects  ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  not  ignorant  of  the 
firmness  of  Tiberius  in  things  of  this  kind.  When  the  chief  men  of  the  nation 
saw  his  perplexity,  and  also  that  he  repented  of  what  he  had  done,  but  did  not 
wish  to  have  his  sorrow  perceived,  they  wrote  to  Tiberius  the  most  supplicatory 
letters.  When  the  emperor  had  read  these  letters,  what  did  he  say  of  Pilate  ? 
What  did  he  threaten  ?  It  is  needless  to  narrate  how  angry  he  became;  the 
event  itself  declares  ;  and  yet  he  was  not  easily  irritated.  The  event  was,  that 
immediately, even  on  that  very  day, he  wrote  a  letter  to  Pilate,  rebuked  him 
severely  for  his  recent  audacious  proceeding,  and  commanded  him  to  re- 
move the  shields  forthwith.  Accordingly  they  were  removed  from  the 
metropolis  to  Cesarea  by  the  sea-side,  called  Sebaste,  in  honor  of  your  great 
grand-father  (Augustus) ;  that  they  might  be  placed  in  the  temple  conse- 
crated to  him  there.  In  that  temple  they  were  deposited."  Letter  of 
Agrippa  the  Elder  to  Caligula ;  in  Philo  Jud.,  de  Virt.  et  Leg.  ad  Caj.,  Works, 
Vol.  II.  pp.  589,  590.  This  account  from  Philo  is  remarkably  similar  to  one 
in  Josephus,  Ant.  XVIII.  Ch.  3.  §  1.  Instances  like  these,  (supposing  them 
to  have  been  two  different  events),  and  like  that  of  Pilate's  attempting  to 
bring  a  current  of  water  into  Jerusalem,  (recorded  in  Jos.  Ant.  XVIII.  Ch. 
3.  §  2),  must  have  convinced  the  Prefect,  how  dangerous  it  was  to  oppose 
the  religious  prejudices  of  the  Jews;  and  thus  excite  them  to  complain  of 
his  mal-adininistration  to  the  Emperor.  They  will,  therefore,  serve  to  account 
for  the  fear  which  he  manifested  during  several  parts  of  our  Saviour's  trial. 
See  John  19:  1,  8.  19:  12,  etc. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


463 


NOTE  F,  pp.  437—439,415,  41G. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  better  method  of  investigating  any  theory  than  by 
examining  the  converse  modes  of  exhibiting  it.  Take,  for  example,  the 
statement  that  free  agency  implies  a  power,  existing  in  its  possessor,  to 
choose  what  he  does  in  fact  refuse,  and  to  refuse  what  he  does  in  fact  choose. 
The  power  to  sin,  as  possessed  by  every  moral  being  who  is  now  and  ever 
will  be  free  from  sin,  illustrates  the  power  to  be  perfect,  as  possessed  by 
every  moral  being  who  is  now  not  only  imperfect  but  entirely  sinful.  As 
the  power  of  sinning  is  entirely  consistent  with  an  infallible  certainty  of  not 
sinning;  so  the  power  of  becoming  and  remaining  free  from  all  sin,  is  en- 
tirely consistent  with  an  infallible  certainty  of  remaining  forever  sinful. 
As  the  statement  that  the  elect  angels,  that  the  Saviour,  that  even  the  Deity, 
have  the  ability  to  do  what  any  other  moral  agent  can  do,  is  often  condemned 
for  its  apparent  disrespect  to  the  character  of  God,  so  the  statement  that  the 
evil  angels,  and  all  the  non-elect  have  the  ability  to  repent,  is  often  con- 
demned for  its  apparent  disrespect  to  the  divine  purposes,  and  its  assumption 
of  human  independence.  Both  the  statements  however  are  condemned  un- 
justly. It  has  been  already  remarked,  (Note  D.),  that  the  power  of  the 
highest  orders  of  holy  beings  to  sin,  is  connected  with  an  infallible  certainty, 
that  the  power  will  not  be  exercised  in  actual  sinning;  so  it  may  be  re- 
marked, that  the  power  of  man  to  be  perfect  is  connected  with  the  same 
kind  of  certainty,  that  this  power  will  not,  during  the  present  life,  be  ex- 
ercised in  this  perfect  obedience.  It  seems  unreasonable  to  insinuate  that 
the  doctrine  of  natural  ability  to  do  whatever  God  has  required,  is  at  all 
inconsistent  with  man's  inveterate  unwillingness  to  do  it,  and  his  consequent 
entire  dependence  on  the  special  interposition  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

Such  remarks,  however,  as  those  of  Ullmann  on  pages  437 — 9,  oblige  us  to 
confess,  that  evangelical  divines,  insisting  on  the  exact  equality  between 
the  power  of  man  and  his  obligation,  do  sometimes  include  in  this  power, 
such  a  degree  of  contingency,  as  would  render  it  always  uncertain,  whether 
the  possible  will  not  be  also  the  actual.  The  mere  possession  of  an  ability  is 
regarded,  tacitly  at  least,  as  some  evidence  that  the  ability  will  be  developed 
in  this  or  that  way  !  Because  man  can  be  perfect,  there  is  thought  to  be 
some  ground  for  expecting,  or  at  least  suspecting,  that  he  will  in  fact  and  in 
this  life  be  perfect !  And  because  he  has  faculties  adequate  to  all  that  is 
demanded  of  them,  he  is  called  upon  to  confide  in  himself,  and  cherish 
"  faith  in  human  nature." 

While  we  would  condemn  such  a  style  of  reasoning  as  is  pursued  on  pa- 
ges 437—439,  and  such  phraseology  as  is  employed  there,  and  also  on  pages 
415,  416,  such  for  example  as  "  faith  in  human  nature,"  (Glaube  an  die 
Menscheit),  we  would  still  choose  to  stop,  in  our  condemnation,  at  the 
proper  bounds.  There  is  no  error,  believed  by  man,  which  is  not  mingled 
with  some  truth  ;  and  the  remarks  of  Ullmann,  however  untrue  as  well  as 
unfortunate  in  some  respects,  are  yet  pervaded  by  a  sentiment,  not  only  cor- 
rect but  important.    If,  in  our  theories,  we  extend  the  depravity  of  man  be- 


464 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


yond  its  real  province ;  if  we  deny  the  innocence  of  some  of  his  natural  de- 
sires ;  if  we  abjure  all  confidence  in  the  decisions  of  his  moral  sense  ;  if  we 
deny  the  adaptedness  of  divine  truth  to  exert  a  hopeful  influence  on  his  con- 
stitutional susceptibilities;  if  we  reject  the  idea  that  he  works  out  his  own 
salvation  simultaneously  with  his  being  influenced  by  God;  if  we  insist  on 
his  passivity  and  dependence,  so  as  to  exclude  his  activity  and  freedom  in  the 
renovation  of  his  soul ;  above  all,  if  we  forget  the  fact,  that  the  Spirit  of  con- 
verting love  never  intermits  his  watch  and  care  over  the  race,  but  stands 
ready  to  hear  the  faintest  cry  for  help,  and  to  inspire  the  prayer  which  he 
afterwards  answers  ;  we  shall  benumb  our  own  sensibility,  and  shall  labor 
with  diminished  zeal  and  skill  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  divine  promi- 
ses. There  is  always  danger,  lest,  in  our  zeal  for  the  letter  of  a  human 
creed,  we  lose  the  spirit  of  the  Bible  ;  and  in  wishing  to  make  out  a  strong 
case  of  human  depravity,  we  bereave  ourselves  of  some  of  the  choice  senti- 
ments of  our  religious  being.  There  is  sad  reason  to  believe,  that  one  class 
of  good  men,  at  the  present  day,  overlook  man's  need,  in  their  zeal  for  his 
possessing  a  moral  nature  ;  and  another  class  overlook  his  real  agency,  in 
their  zeal  for  his  being  governed  by  his  Maker.  Meditating  disproportion- 
ally  on  what  God  has  given  to  man,  some  almost  forget  how  obstinate  man  is 
in  abusing  all  these  gifts.  Meditating  too  exclusively  on  our  depraved  and 
dependent  state,  others  are  inclined  to  respect  our  constitution  as  little  as 
our  character,  and  they  impute  sin  to  all  that  we  are,  as  well  as  all  that  we 
do.  Now  there  can  be  but  little  doubt,  that  those,  who  wish  to  produce  a 
strong  impression  of  man's  guilty  helplessness,  would  succeed  better  than  they 
have  as  yet  done, if  they  would  insist  more  frequently  upon  those  noble  powers, 
which  are  unremittingly  abused,  and  which  are  essential  to  man's  aggrava- 
ted sinfulness.  There  can  be  but  little  doubt,  also,  that  those  who  wish  to 
commend  the  doctrine  of  ability  commensurate  with  duty,  would  sooner  dis- 
pel the  prejudices  that  oppose  them,  if  they  would  insist  more  on  what 
they  firmly  believe,  the  undeviating  tendency  of  the  natural  heart  to  turn  all 
its  power  of  well  doing  into  the  channel  of  evil  doing.  The  whole  truth, 
just  as  it  is,  must  be  believed,  or  we  cannot  unite  evangelical  activity  with 
rational  dependence.  The  powers  of  man  must  be  acknowledged  to  exist, 
or  he  will  not  feel  his  responsibility  and  his  guilt.  His  inveterate  unwil- 
lingness to  do  what  of  good  he  can  do,  must  be  exhibited  fully,  or  he  will  be 
tempted  to  regard  his  capabilities  as  in  themselves  virtuous,  which  would  be 
as  irrational  as  to  regard  them  sinful.  The  fault,  so  far  as  there  is  any  fault, 
in  two  of  the  evangelical  parties,  who  are  jealous  of  each  other  in  reference 
to  the  doctrine  of  natural  ability,  seems  to  be,  not  so  much  that  either  party 
believes  what  is  positively  false,  as  that  each  party  is  somewhat  inclined  to 
insist  on  merely  half  of  what  is  true.  The  charge  of  positive  heresy,  when 
made  by  either  party  against  the  other,  appears  to  be  gratuitous,  and  even  if 
made  from  good  motives,  is  productive  of  but  few  good  results. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


565 


NOTE  G,  p.  439,  440. 

The  word  Sandhaftigkeit  is  used  in  distinction  from  Sonde,  just  as  vitio- 
sitas  is  used  in  distinction  from  vitium,  and  vitiosity  from  sin.  Sundhafti- 
gkeit  is  the  abstract;  Sunde  is  the  concrete.  Sundhaftigkeit  denotes  the 
state  of  a  person  who  acts  sinfully  ;  Sunde  denotes  the  sinful  act  itself. 
"  Every  departure,"  says  Bretschneider, "  which  we  make  in  a  state  of  free- 
dom, from  the  design  of  our  being,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  from  the 
known  will  of  God,  is  sin  in  the  concrete,  actual  sin,  Sonde,  peccatum  ;  and 
the  tendency  to  such  a  departure  is  sin  in  the  abstract,  Sundhaftigkeit,  viti- 
ositas."  And  again  :  "  The  general  definition  of  sin,  (Sunde)  is  therefore, 
every  deviation  from  the  law  of  God  (1  John  3:  4) :  but  in  a  more  restricted 
sense,  and  with  reference  to  morality,  it  is  every  deviation,  which  we  make 
as  free  agents,  from  the  known  law  of  God.  The  state  of  vitiosity,  (Sund- 
haftigkeit) is  moral  corruption,  (corruptio,  (p&ogdj  2  Pet.  1:  4.  2:  12.  Eph.  4: 
22.  2  Cor.  11:  3.),  which,  according  to  the  symbolical  books,  is  found  in  all 
men."    Bretsch.  Dogmatic,  §  118. 

Our  theological  dialect  needs  some  convenient  term,  which  shall  designate, 
without  ambiguity,  the  state  of  mind  leading  to  actual  sin,  as  distinguished 
from  actual  sin  itself ;  the  propensity,  tendency,  proclivity  of  the  soul  to 
wickedness,  as  distinguished  from  the  actual  wickedness. 

The  state  of  the  soul,  which  constitutes  this  propension  or  proneness  to 
sin,  seems  to  consist  not  in  barely  possessing  susceptibilities,  the  gratifica- 
tion of  which  is,  in  certain  circumstances,  a  sin  ;  but  in  possessing  them  in 
such  a  degree  of  liveliness  as  will  certainly  lead  to  voluntary  sinful  indul- 
gence. These  1  lower,'  '  inferior,'  susceptibilities,  as  they  are  called,  consti- 
tute part  of  our  nature,  as  God  originally  made  it ;  but  they  do  not,  in  them- 
selves, constitute  what  is  technically  denominated  native  depravity,  or  sin- 
ful disposition.  When,  however,  these  susceptibilities  are  in  such  a  degree 
of  liveliness  as  results  in  an  improper  gratification  of  them,  when  in  their 
active  power  they  overbalance  those  susceptibilities  which  would  otherwise 
determine  the  will  to  holiness,  then  they  constitute  that  tendency,  bias,  dis- 
position to  sin,  which  is  technically  denominated  native,  as  distinct  from  ac- 
tual depravity,  and  which  is  the  uniform  occasion  of  sin,  in  the  proper  sense 
of  that  term. 

There  is  doubtless  a  difference,  in  some  respects,  between  the  state,  the 
very  nature  or  constitution  of  a  holy  being,  and  that  of  a  sinful  being ;  the 
nature  of  the  former  is  such,  that  in  his  moral  developments  he  will  fulfil 
the  law,  and  the  nature  of  the  latter  is  such,  that  in  his  moral  developments 
he  will  transgress  the  law.  The  nature  of  the  holy  being  is  such,  that  he 
will  use  in  a  certain  way  such  powers  as  the  sinful  being  has  and  invaria- 
bly uses  in  the  opposite  way.  In  the  good  being,  those  higher  suscepti- 
bilities, the  preponderance  of  which  determines  the  will  aright,  are  so  much 
more  lively  than  those  lower  susceptibilities,  the  voluntary  gratification  of 
which,  beyond  a  certain  degree,  constitutes  sin,  that  the  being  finds  his 
chief  pleasure  in  benevolence.    In  the  wicked  being,  those  lower  suscepti- 

59 


466 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


bilities,  the  voluntary  gratification  of  which  beyond  a  certain  degree  is  for- 
bidden, are  so  much  more  active  and  excitable  than  the  higher,  that  the  be- 
ing finds  his  chief  pleasure  in  selfishness.  In  the  good,  that  part  of  his  na- 
ture which  was  designed  to  be  subordinate  is  kept  so,  and  that  which  was 
designed  to  sway,  does  so  ;  but  in  the  wicked,  the  nobler  susceptibilities  are 
swayed  by  the  baser  ;  swayed  as  certainly  and  as  invariably  as  if  unavoidably. 

(The  first  of  these  two  classes  of  susceptibilities  is  often  called  spiritual ; 
the  second,  sensual  or  carnal.  But  the  words  sensual,  carnal,  do  not  seem 
to  be  the  precise  words  which  are  needed.  First,  they  are  often  used  in 
their  primary  signification,  as  equivalent  to  animal ;  whereas  there  are  some 
sensibilities  whose  indulgence  is,  in  certain  circumstances,  sin,  which  are 
not  bodily  or  animal.  Secondly,  the  words  sensual  and  carnal  are  often 
used  as  equivalent  to  sinful,  wicked  ;  whereas  it  is  not  here  intended  to  de- 
signate the  susceptibilities,  which  are  the  occasions  of  sinning,  as  in  them- 
selves blameworthy.  For  these  reasons,  a  circumlocution  is  substituted  for 
the  words  often  employed  on  this  subject.) 

It  is  frequently  said,  that  previous  to  any  change  in  the  moral  quality  of 
an  individual's  actions,  there  must  be  a  change  in  his  nature  or  state  ;  this 
change  securing  the  certainty  of  that.  If  the  change  of  state  do  not  pre- 
cede, in  the  order  of  time,  the  change  in  act,  it  is  said  to  be  necessarily  an- 
terior in  the  order  of  nature.  Now  may  not  the  change  in  the  nature  or 
state  of  Adam,  which  secured  the  certainty  of  his  change  from  a  holy  to  a 
sinful  choice,  have  been,  a  change  in  the  relative  activity,  or  excitement  of 
the  two  classes  of  susceptibilities,  which  he  had  possessed  from  the  first  ? 
On  this  supposition  those  susceptibilities,  which  were  originally  the  more 
lively,  or  had  been  the  more  excited,  became  now  the  less  so.  They  had 
been  the  inward  incitements  to  holiness;  they  became  now  no  longer  pre- 
dominant in  determining  the  will ;  the  will  then  no  longer  obeyed  the  law. 
Those  susceptibilities,  on  the  contrary,  which  were  originally  the  less  active 
or  excited,  which  were  kept  as  they  were  designed  to  be,  subordinate,  be- 
came now  the  more  lively  in  their  action,  and  predominant  in  determining 
the  will.  Just  so  soon  as  the  sensibilities,  constituting  the  subjective  incite- 
ments to  sin,  came,  by  the  pressure  of  objective  temptation,  into  more  lively 
exercise  than  the  opposite  sensibilities,  just  so  soon  were  they  dispropor- 
tionately, i.  e.  sinfully  indulged.  The  first  act  of  will,  gratifying  the  inor- 
dinate craving  of  these  sensibilities,  was  the  first  sin  ;  the  apostasy.  The 
mode,  in  which  the  proper  balance  between  the  two  classes  of  susceptibili- 
ties may  have  been  permanently  changed,  has  been  intimated,  with  his  usual 
succinctness,  by  Bishop  Butler,  Anal.  Part  I.  Chap.  5. 

If  the  change  of  nature  in  Adam  may  be  said  to  consist  in  a  change  of  the 
balance  between  the  activity  of  the  higher  and  that  of  the  lower  suscepti- 
bilities ;  may  not  also  the  change  of  nature  in  regeneration  be  said  to  con- 
sist in  a  partial  restoration  of  the  original  balance  ;  in  changing  the  relative 
state  of  the  susceptibilities  from  the  inclination  toward  evil  to  the  inclina- 
tion toward  good  ?  The  common  remark  is  that  in  the  new  birth  no  new 
power  or  faculty  is  imparted  to  man ;  but  he  begins,  in  his  new  state,  to  use 
for  God  the  talent  which,  though  previously  possessed,  was  kept  hidden. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


467 


In  this  viewof  the  subject,  which  is  suggested  us  a  matter  of  speculation  and 
not  of  faith,  Ullmann  is  evidently  correct  in  saying,  in  the  paragraph  under 
comment,  that  the  power  to  sin  does  not  constitute  the  tendency  to  sin  ;  for 
the  susceptibilities  variously  termed  inferior,  sensual,  carnal,  may  be  so 
counterbalanced  by  the  susceptibilities  termed  superior,  higher,  spiritual, 
that  while  there  is  a  power  to  either  course,  the  right  or  the  wrong,  there  is 
a  decided  tendency  to  one  course,  the  right,  and  a  certainty,  as  fixed  as  if 
unavoidable,  that  the  wrong  course  will  never  be  commenced.  And  as  the 
power  to  sin  is  distinct  from  the  tendency,  so  the  tendency  is  altogether  dis- 
tinct from  the  sin.  What  precedes  is  distinct  from  what  follows.  The  an- 
tecedent occasion  of  an  event  is  distinct  from  the  event  itself.  The  tenden- 
cies to  sin  are  devoid  of  guilt;  nothing  but  the  voluntary  indulgence  of 
them  is  blameworthy.  See  Woods's  Transl.  of  Knapp's  Theol.  IX.  §  78.  111. 

In  reference  to  the  question  then,  whether  God  is  the  author  of  the  propen- 
sity in  our  souls  to  do  wrong,  it  may  be  affirmed,  that  if  we  pronounce  him 
to  be  the  author  of  it,  we  by  no  means  pronounce  him  to  be  the  author  of 
sin.  It  does  not  follow  from  the  fact  of  his  having  created  within  us  sus- 
ceptibilities inwardly  tempting  us  to  do  wrong,  that  he  has  shut  us  up  to 
those  susceptibilities,  and  thereby  necessitated  us  to  do  wrong.  He  has  also 
created  antagonist  susceptibilities  within  us,  has  commanded,  and,  if  so,  has 
of  course  capacitated  us  to  subjugate  the  more  degrading  principles  of  our 
nature  to  the  more  elevating.  It  is  indeed  true,  that  He  has  given  us  a  pre- 
ponderance of  appetite  that  leads  to  sin  ;  but  this  preponderance  is  an  appa- 
rent evil,  not  a  moral  wrong  ;  an  affliction  to  us,  not  a  crime.  The  same 
Universal  Cause,  which  has  produced  apparent  evil  in  the  world  of  matter, 
sees  reasons  which  we  cannot  see  for  producing  it  in  the  world  of  mind. 
This  apparent  evil  he  has,  however,  commanded  us  to  resist  and  overcome. 
He  has  taught  us,  that  the  excessive  liveliness  of  our  lower  sensibilities,  is 
a  temptation,  which  we  must  combat ;  that  it  is  connected  with  sin,  no  fur- 
ther than  we  voluntarily  and  disproportionately  indulge  what  we  have  a 
power  to  mortify  and  keep  subordinate.  When  our  inferior  propensities  are 
indulged  to  an  excess,  they  do  not  become  sins  ;  the  indulgence  of  them  is 
the  only  sin;  and  this  indulgence  is  an  act  of  ours,  and  cannot,  either  phi- 
losophically or  evangelically,  be  represented  as  the  immediate  effect  of  Him 
who  has  forbidden  it,  and  whose  soul  loathes  it.  On  the  cause  of  our  pro- 
pensity to  sin,  see  Knapp's  Theol.  IX.  §  78,  79.  Storr  and  Fiatt,  111.  §  55. 
While  on  the  one  hand,  there  is  no  need  of  becoming  Manichaeans,  and  en- 
deavoring to  deny  that  the  certainty  of  the  existence  of  sin  was  established 
by  the  Holy  One,  so  on  the  other  hand  it  is  an  equally  unwise  extreme  to 
become  fatalists ;  and  in  an  excess  of  zeal  for  the  agency  of  God,  to  deny 
the  agency  of  his  creatures,  and  their  undivided  authorship  of  their  own 
iniquity. 

The  only  remaining  question  suggested  by  Ullmann  is,  whether  Christ 
possessed  the  vitiosity,  which  all  other  men  possess.  Our  author  does  not 
deny,  but  rather  affirms,  that  Christ  possessed  the  same  kind  of  constitution, 
which  we  do,  i.  e.  the  same  kind  of  susceptibilities  to  animal  and  other  en- 


468 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


joyment.  If  then  our  constitution  is  itself  sinful,  if  any  of  our  susceptibili- 
ties are  in  kind  blameworthy,  then,  by  necessary  inference,  they  were  so  in 
the  Saviour.  But  they  are  not  so  in  us ;  of  course  not  in  him.  Neither 
does  Ullmann  deny,  but  he  rather  affirms,  that  those  susceptibilities  the  in- 
ordinate indulgence  of  which  is  sin,  were  sometimes  excited  in  Christ ;  he 
only  denies  that  they  were  ever  inordinately  indulged  ;  the  excitement  was 
always  subdued,  before  it  became  so  great  as  to  determine  the  will  to  an  act 
of  sin.  See  pages  434 — 436.  The  conclusion  then  seems  to  be,  that  Christ 
did  not  possess  such  susceptibilities  as  lead  to  transgression,  in  the  same  de- 
gree of  liveliness  in  which  we  possess  them ;  and  that  he  did  possess  what 
is  called  the  spiritual  susceptibilities  in  a  greater  degree  of  Liveliness  than  we 
possess  them ;  that  he  had,  as  some  express  themselves,  the  same  nature  in 
kind  with  us,  but  not  the  same  in  degree  ;  that  all  the  temptations  to  evil, 
which  his  nature  may  have  presented  him,  he  uniformly  resisted}  and  was 
therefore  entirely  free  both  from  actual  transgression  and  the  proclivity  to- 
wards it,  from  sin  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term,  and  from  what  is  tech- 
nically but  ambiguously  called  a  sinful  nature.    See  Heb.  4:  15. 

NOTE  H,  pp.  440—443. 

Those  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  Lutheran  theology,  will  more  cor- 
rectly appreciate  the  manner  in  which  Professor  Ullmann  speaks  of  original 
sin,  jf  they  will  peruse  the  statement  of  the  doctrine  given  by  Bretschneider 
in  his  Entwickelung,  §  94,  and  Hahn  in  his  Lehrbuch  2.  §  80.  As  the 
whole  subject  is  one,  on  which  precise  definitions  of  what  men  have  believed 
are,  at  the  present  day,  peculiarly  important,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  insert 
here  the  following  translation  from  Bretschneider. 

"  Theologians  make  a  distinction  between  original  sin,  peccatum  habitu- 
ale,  and  the  actual  sinful  deeds  which  proceed  from  that  habitus.  As  sourc- 
es of  actual  sins  they  assign,  original  sin,  the  seductions  of  the  devil  and 
bad  example.  Gerhard,  Vol.  11.  p.  161 .  Calov.  Vol.  V.  p.  369."  Entwick. 
§  91. 

"  By  habitual  sin,  theologians  understand  a  property  or  condition  of  hu- 
man nature,  by  means  of  which  this  nature  is  in  a  state  of  moral  corruption, 
the  source  of  actual  sin.  Habitual  sin  is  original  sin,  peccatum  originale, 
that  is,  derived  sin  ;  which  has  resulted  from  the  peccatum  originans,  that 
is,  the  first  sin,  the  fall  of  man.  The  full  idea  of  original  sin,  according  to 
the  symbolical  books,  is  that  incidental,  total  corruption  of  human  nature, 
which  originated  from  the  fall  of  man,  is  propagated  by  generation  to  all 
men,  has  taken  the  place  of  the  lost  image  of  God,  and  is  never  in  this  life  to 
be  entirely  separated  from  the  nature  of  man  ;  a  corruption  by  which  man  is 
made  incapable  of  a  true  knowledge  of  God,  of  love  toward  him,  and  of  real 
virtue  ;  is  on  the  contrary  full  of  a  prevailing  inclination  to  evil,  and  on  this 
account  is  subjected  to  the  punishment  of  death  and  to  eternal  condemnation." 

According  to  this,  original  sin  is,  first,  something  negative  ;  namely,  "  the 
total  want,  and  defect  or  privation  of  concreated  original  righteousness,  or  of 
the  image  of  God.'1 

Secondly,  it  is  something  positive,  "  impotence  and  stupidity,  by  which 
man  is  utterly  unfit  for  all  spiritual  things."2    Under  spiritual  things  is  in- 

1  Totalis  carentia  et  defectus,  seu  privatio  concreatae  justitiae  originalis, 
sive  imaginis  Dei.    Formula  Concordiae.  Art.  1.  p.  640. 

2  lmpotentia,  dSwafit'ttj  et  stupiditas,  qua  homo  ad  omnia  spiritualia  est 
prorsus  ineptus.    Formula  Concordiae,  a.  a.  O. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


■169 


eluded  everything  which  concerns  u  our  salvation  and  eternal  happiness.'' 
This  impotence  consists,  first,  so  far  as  the  reason  is  concerned,  in  the  fact 
that"  men  are  born  without  the  fear  of  God,  without  confidence  in  God  ;"' 
or  that  from  birth  there  dwells  in  them  "  ignorance  of  God,  contempt  ot  'him, 
a  destitution  of  fear  of  him,  and  confidence  in  him  ;  an  inability  to  love 
him."2  Secondly,  so  far  as  the  will  is  concerned,  this  impotence  consists  in 
"  evil  concupiscence,''3  that  is,  "  a  perpetunl  inclination  of  nature  to  seek 
for  carnal  things,  which  are  against  the  word  of  God  ;  to  seek  for  not  only 
the  pleasures  of  the  body,  but  also  wisdom  and  carnal  righteousness,  and  to 
confide  in  these  good  things,  and  to  despise  God."4 

Thirdly,  this  positive  corruption  is  not  a  kind  of  external  obstacle  to  the 
operation  of  the  powers  of  man,  without  these  powers  being  themselves  cor- 
rupted ;5  but  it  affects  the  powers  themselves,  the  whole  man,  body  and  soul. 
It  is  "  the  corruption  of  the  whole  nature  and  of  all  the  powers,  but  espe- 
cially of  the  principal  and  higher  faculties  of  the  soul,  in  mind,  intellect, 
heart  and  will."6 

Fourthly,  it  has  originated  from  the  fall ;  or  "  the  mass,  from  which  God 
at  this  day  forms  man,  was  corrupted  and  perverted  in  Adam,  and  is  thus 
propagated  to  us  in  the  hereditary  way."7  It  is  communicated  to  us  by  gen- 
eration, by  hereditary  and  natural  propagation,"  because  "  in  primo  concep- 
tions nostrae  momento  ipsum  semen,  ex  quo  homo  formatur  peccato  jam 
contaminatum  et  corruptum  est."  F.  C.  I.  p.  644.  Aug.  C.  Art.  2. 

Fifthly,  it  is  however  not  the  substance  of  the  man  himself,  or  an  essen- 
tial property,  that  is,  a  property  necessary  to  the  nature  of  the  man  ;  but  it 
is  an  accidens,  an  incidental  property  like  leprosy  in  the  body.8 

Sixthly,  but  this  property  is  common  to  all  men  without  exception.  "  Af- 
ter the  fall  of  Adam  all  men,  propagated  in  the  natural  way,  are  born  with 
sin."9  (As  the  human  nature  of  Christ  was  not  propagated  in  the  ordinary 
way,  so  he  alone  has  been  considered  exempt  from  original  sin.)  This 
property  cannot  be  entirely  removed  even  from  the  converted.  "  It  will  be 
fully  removed,  however,  by  death  in  the  happy  resurrection."10  Baptism 
however  takes  away  the  guilt  of  original  sin  ;  and  the  Spirit,  imparted  through 
baptism,  "  begins  to  mortify  evil  desire  and  creates  new  feelings  in  the 
man."11 


1  Homines  nascuntur  sine  metu  Dei,  sine  fiducia  erga  Deum.  Aug.  Con. 
Art.  2. 

2  Ignorantia  Dei,  contemptus  Dei,  vacare  metu  Dei  et  fiducia  erga  Deum, 
non  posse  diligere  Deum.    Apol.  1.  p.  53. 

3  Concupiscentia  prava.    Aug.  Con.  Art.  2. 

4  Perpetua  naturae  inclinatio  (Apol.  p.  51),  quae  carnalia  quaerit  contra 
verbum  Dei,  h.  e.  quaerit  non  solum  voluptates  corporis,  sed  etiam  sapien- 
tia.m  et  justitiam  carnalem,  et  confidit  his  bonis,  contemnens  Deum.  Apol. 
p.  55. 

5  Form.  Con.  1.  p.  642. 

6  Corruptio  totius  naturae  et  omnium  virium,  imprimis  vero  superiorum 
et  principaliuin  animae  facultatum  in  mente,  intellectu,  corde  et  voluntate. 
Form.  Con.  p.  640. 

7  Massa.  ex  quo  hodie  Deus  hominem  format,  in  Adamo  corrupta  et  per- 
versa est,  et  ita  haereditario  modo  in  nos  propagatur.    F.  C.  1.  p.  647. 

8  F.  C.  Art.  1.  p.  642,  577,  645. 

9  Post  lapsum  Adae  omnes  homines,  secundum  naturam  propagati.  nas- 
cuntur cum  peccato.    Aug.  C.  Art.  2.' 

10  Hoc  per  mortem  in  beata  ilia  resurrectione  plene  fiet.    F.  C.  I.  p.  575. 

11  Incipit  mortificare  concupiscentiam  et  novos  motus  creat  in  homine. 
Apol.  1.  p.  56. 


470 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


Seventhly,  this  corruption  is  real  sin,  that  is,  punishable  by  God.  "  It  is 
truly  sin,  condemning,  and  bringing  now  also  eternal  death  upon  those  who 
are  not  born  again  by  baptism  and  the  Spirit."1  We  are  by  this  corruption 
"  children  of  wrath  by  nature,  and  slaves  of  death  and  condemnation.'  2  The 
punishment  for  original  sin  is,  according  to  A.  C.  II.,  eternal  perdition  ;  it 
is  also  according  to  Apol.  I.  p.  58,  death,  and  other  physical  evils,  and  the 
dominion  of  the  devil  (over  us).  So  likewise  the  Schm.  Art.  pt.  3.  art.  1., 
and  F.  C.  I.  p  G41,  and  in  other  places. 

Our  theologians,  until  these  modern  times,  have  adhered  without  deviation 
to  this  doctrine  of  original  sin  ;  and  the  older  writers  of  systems  unanimous- 
ly described  original  sin,  according  to  the  idea  found  in  the  symbolical  books, 
asdefectus  and  corruptio,  want  of  holiness,  and,  positively,  bad  inclinations; 
besides  which  they  only  considered  the  guilt  of  original  sin  as  its  third  essen- 
tial feature,  and  in  opposition  to  the  Romish  church  they  ascribed  this  sin  to 
the  mother  of  Jesus.  (Callixtus  is  an  exception  to  the  preceding  remark. 
He  considered  the  image  of  God,  as  something  superadded,  a  supernatural 
gift,  and  asserted  that  from  the  fall  there  resulted  a  privation  of  original  right- 
eousness, but  no  positive  corruption  of  the  powers  of  man  ;  that  man  how- 
ever is  now  given  up  to  his  natural  dispositions.  He  therefore  denied  the 
positive  part  of  the  doctrine  of  the  church). 

Modern  theologians,  on  the  contrary,  who  have  followed  the  standards  of 
the  church,  have  yet  deviated  from  them  on  this  subject,  in  the  following 
points.  First,  they  have  not  admitted  the  idea,  that  human  reason  is  corrup- 
ted in  the  discernment  of  good,  but  barely  that  there  is  an  undue  (abnorme) 
preponderance  of  the  animal  inclinations,  or  of  the  animal  susceptibilities 
above  the  reason.  So  Michaelis,  Morus,  Storr,  Reinhard,  etc.  Secondly, 
they  have  not  agreed  with  the  older  theologians,  (such  as  Gerhard,  Vol.  11. 
p.  155),  in  explaining  this  undue  preponderance  of  the  sensual  excitability 
as  a  punishment  for  the  first  sin  of  Adam,  nor  moreover,  as  a  consequence  of 
this  first  transgression  alone  ;  but  have  asserted  that  this  transgression  is  on- 
ly the  first  beginning  ;  but  the  preponderance  of  the  animal  inclinations  has 
been  gradually  occasioned  by  the  sins  which  have  perpetually  succeeded 
that  of  Adam.  Thirdly,  they  have  therefore  added  the  position,  that  this 
moral  corruption  has  no  fixed  limits  assigned  to  its  quantity,  and  is  not  the 
same  in  different  subjects,  but  is  susceptible  of  increase  and  diminution;3 
and  by  Christianity  will  be  more  and  more  diminished.4  Christianity  brings 
men  back  into  (their  normal  state ;)  the  state  in  which  they  should  be  ;  that 
of  moral  freedom,  or  the  dominion  of  the  true,  the  good  and  the  beautiful. 

Others,  on  the  contrary,  have  rejected  this  doctrine  of  the  church,  and 
have  denied  that  man  is  in  a  state  of  corruption,  which  did  not  originally 
belong  to  him,  but  which  has  been  subsequently  added  to  him.  They  have 
admitted  nothing,  but  a  vitiosity,  a  tendency  to  sin,  which  is  natural  to  man, 
which  is  original ;  and  which  is  dependent  on  the  inevitably  earlier  devel- 
opment, and  therefore  the  greater  cultivation  and  activity  of  the  sensual  part 
of  our  nature.  They  regard  this  as  a  limitation  not  to  be  separated  from  hu- 
man nature,  and  itself  not  punishable.  Doederlein,  p.  48,  however,  will  yet 
allow,  that  the  incidental  faulty  conditions  of  temperament  can  be  propaga- 
ted by  generation.  The  '  radical  evil'  which  Kant  supposes  to  exist  in  hu- 
man nature,  comes  back  also  to  this  same  idea.  He  places  this  evil,  first,  in 
the  weakness  of  the  human  heart,  as  to  following  the  moral  principles  it  has 
received;  secondly,  in  the  insincerity  of  the  heart,  in  obeying  commands  of 


'  Vere  est  peccatum,  damnans  et  afferens  nunc  quoque  aeternam  mortem 
his,  qui  non  renascuntur  per  baptismum  et  Spiritum  Sanctum.    A.  C.  II. 

2  Natura  filii  irae,  mortis  et  damnationis  mancipia.    F.  C.  I.  p.  641. 

3  So  Reinhard,  p.  307.  Bretschneider,  Vol.  II.  pp.  75  seq. 

4  Bretschneider,  Vol.  II.  pp.  585  seq. 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLax'UK. 


471 


duty  not  from  pure  moral  considerations,  but  from  the  incitements  of  selfish- 
ness ;  and  thirdly,  in  the  hostility  to  good  (or  in  badness),  in  the  arbitrari- 
ness in  reference  to  principles,  by  which  the  moral  motives  to  an  act  are 
treated  as  subordinate  to  those  which  are  not  moral. 

As  to  the  biblical  idea  of  original  sin,  the  passage  in  Gen.  iii.  contains  not 
the  slightest  notice  of  such  a  sin  as  commencing  at  the  fall  of  man  ;  and  Gen. 
8:21.  Ps.  58:  3.  Isa.  48:  8.  Eccl.  7:20.  Prov.  20:  9.  Job  14:  4.  I  Kings  8: 
46,  speak  only  of  the  historical  matter  of  fact,  (which  the  New  Testament 
also  acknowledges  in  John  1:  8—10.  Gal.  3:  22.  Rom.  ii.  and  iii.),  that  no 
man  is  without  sin,  and  that  the  tendency  to  sin  develops  itself  at  an  early 
period.  On  the  other  hand,  Paul  teaches,  Rom.  7:  14  seq.,  more  definitely, 
that  the  sensual  part  of  our  nature  has  a  preponderance  over  the  rational ; 
and  he  derives  this  and  the  consequent  sins  of  the  human  race,  as  also  the 
origin  of  death,  Rom.  7:  14  seq.,  from  the  offence  of  Adam,  lie  holds  this 
preponderance  to  be  punishable  ;  see  Eph.  2.  3.  He  does  not  however  ex- 
press himself  definitely  on  the  nature  of  this  connection  between  Adam  and 
his  posterity."    Entwick.  §  94. 

NOTE  I,  p.  441. 

Perhaps  no  writer  has  more  fully,  as  well  as  intelligently,  believed  in  "  the 
universal  corruption  of  human  nature,"  than  Dr.  Bellamy  ;  and  yet  how  far 
he  was  from  believing  that  this  corruption  is  inconsistent  with  "  an  unweak- 
ened  power  of  choice,"  may  be  seen  in  his  Works  Vol.  1.  pp.  148,  149.  The 
remarks  there  made,  if  made  in  these  days  of  uncandid  dispute,  would  be 
condemned  by  some  as  Semi-Pelagian :  and  yet  they  received  the  explicit 
sanction  of  President  Edwards,  and  were  generally  supposed,  until  the  re- 
cent prevalence  of  a  controversial  spirit,  to  represent  the  standard  doctrine 
of  New  England.  It  is  obvious,  from  several  of  the  remarks  of  Ullmann  on 
the  subject  of  natural  ability,  that  his  views  are  not  so  definite  as  those  which 
have,  since  the  days  of  Edwards,  been  current  in  New  England.  The  same 
criticism  may  be  made  on  the  representations,  which  other  foreign  authors 
have  given  of  the  same  doctrine.  It  is  not  true,  that  they  have  derived  all 
their  knowledge  of  the  doctrine  from  American  divines.  The  distinction 
between  that  which  is,  in  the  strict  use  of  language,  an  ability  to  do  right, 
and  that  which,  in  the  words  of  Robert  Hall,  "  may  without  absurdity  be  call- 
ed an  inability,"  was  by  no  means  discovered  in  the  last  century,  and  in  this 
corner  of  the  world.  Like  every  other  fundamental  truth,  it  has  always  been 
assumed  by  those  who  have  written  on  moral  agency  ;  assumed  tacitly  even 
when  denied  openly.  It  has  been  intimated  in  the  current  maxims,  Ejus 
est  velle,  qui  potest  nolle  ;  Consentire  non  potest,  cum  nec  dissentire  possit. 
Many  of  our  old  theological  writers  came  so  near  stating  the  doctrine  with 
precision,  that  the  reader  is  now  startled,  at  their  standing  so  long  on  the 
threshold,  without  opening  the  door.  Remarkably  clear  expositions,  how- 
ever, are  given  of  this  truth  in  the  works  of  John  Howe,  Richard  Baxter, 
and  Jeremy  Taylor.  For  the  mode  in  which  the  latter  alludes  to  it,  see 
Sermons,  Vol.  I.  pp.  137,  138,  191,  399  et  al.  In  some  passages  he  has  an- 
ticipated some  of  the  identical  phraseology  of  Edwards. 

"  The  earliest  regular  treatise  on  this  subject,"  says  Robert  Hall,"  it  has 
been  my  lot  to  meet  with,  was  the  production  of  Mr.  Truman,  an  eminent 
non-conformist  divine.  In  his  Dissertation  on  Moral  Impotence,  as  he 
styles  it,  he  has  anticipated  the  most  important  arguments  of  succeeding 
writers,  and  has  evinced  throughout  a  most  masterly  acquaintance  with  his 
subject.  This  work  is  mentioned  in  terms  of  high  respect  by  Nelson,  in  his 
Life  of  Bishop  Bull,  who  remarks  that  his  thoughts  were  original,  and  that 
he  had  hit  upon  a  mode  of  defending  Calvinism,  against  the  objections  of 
Bull  and  others,  peculiar  to  himself.  His  claim  to  perfect  originality,  how- 
ever, was  not  so  well  founded  as  Nelson  supposed."  Hall's  Works,  Am. 
Ed.  Vol.  II.  p.  450. 


472 


NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


It  may  appear  to  some  a  matter  of  surprise,  that  New  England  men,  whose 
tendencies  are  practical  rather  than  speculative,  should  have  been  so  suc- 
cessful in  elucidating  this  article  of  our  creed.  It  is  to  be  considered,  how- 
ever, that  the  doctrine  is  one  which  harmonizes  with  the  peculiar  habitudes 
of  the  American  mind.  It  is  not  to  be  learned  from  literary  research,  but 
from  common  sense.  It  is  to  be  learned  from  practical  life.  Our  divines 
have  aimed  at  the  immediate  conversion  of  their  hearers  ;  this  doctrine  har- 
monizes with  that  design  ;.  it  would  be  discovered  more  readily  by  a  mind 
which  was  in  a  state  congenial  with  it,  than  by  any  other.  Its  effect  too, 
when  first  distinctly  developed,  was  marked  ;  and  by  its  beneficial  influence 
on  the  character  and  results  of  New  England  preaching,  it  has  been  perhaps 
more  diligently  studied  by  New  England  divines,  than  by  men  more  exclu- 
sively speculative. 

NOTE  K,pp.  451,449,393. 

The  explanation  that  some  commentators  give  of  John  14: 6,  "lam  the  true 
guide  to  eternal  life,"  Ullmann  would  condemn  as  jejune.  He  often  uses, 
in  this  treatise  and  elsewhere,  the  expression  Christ  is  the  Truth,  as  denot- 
ing that 1  the  word  of  God  did  not  come  to  him  from  without,  by  occasional 
impulses,  but  that  this  word  constantly  dwelt  in  him,  and  went  forth  from 
him,  without  his  receiving  at  peculiar  times  peculiar  inspiration  ;  that  he 
not  merely  taught  the  truth  by  his  words,  but  exhibited  it  also  in  his  acts  ; 
that  every  deed  of  his  was  a  doctrine,  and  every  doctrine  a  God-like  deed  ; 
that  his  whole  life  was  one  great,  connected,  divine  act,  in  which  world- 
redeeming  love  was  always  identical  with  world-redeeming  truth.'  See 
Ullmann's  Aphorisms,  in  Stud.  und.  Krit.  Vol.  VIII.  pp.  598—602.  "  The 
word  1  truth'  stands  opposed  not  only  to  falsehood,  but  likewise  to  vanity. 
In  the  profound  view  of  John,  truth  is  one  with  essence;  the  opposite  of  that 
which  is  not  real,  which  is  empty,  destitute  of  the  divine  nature.  This  is 
the  character  of  the  sinful  world,  (Rom  8:  20).  The  truth,  on  the  contrary, 
is  God  himself,  and  his  Logos,  John  14:  6.  He  has  it  not,  as  something 
existing  in  idea  with  him,  as  something  possessed  by  him;  but  he  is  it,  it- 
self, in  his  own  nature.  The  communication  of  truth,  therefore,  by  the 
Logos  is  not  the  communication  of  certain  correct  ideas,  but  it  is  the  com- 
munication of  a  nature,  of  the  principle  of  all  truth;  it  is  the  communion  of 
the  Spirit.  On  this  account  it  is,  as  Seyffarth  (p.  96)  with  entire  correct- 
ness, declares,  that  the  saints,  who  are  born  of  God,  are  said  by  John  to  be 
sanctified  by  the  truth,"  John  17:  19.  Jn  the  style  of  John,  therefore,  rt 
ahq&sia,  (with  the  article),  is  to  be  distinguished  from  alrj&cia  (without  it), 
see  John  8:  44.  Some  degree  of  truth  is  possessed  even  by  the  unsanctified. 
Only  of  the  devil  is  it  said,  1  truth  is  not  in  him.'  But  the  absolute  Truth  is 
only  the  Eternal."  Olshausen,  Comm.  on  N.  T.  Vol.  II.  p.  52. 

It  is,  perhaps,  unnecessary  to  introduce  so  much  that  borders  on  mysti- 
cism into  the  interpretation  of  the  phrase,  Christ  is  the  truth.  As  he  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light;  as  his  instructions  were  peculiarly  compre- 
hensive, definite,  and  tangible;  as  he  continues  to  illuminate  the  minds  of 
men  ;  as  he  is  the  object  to  which  a  great  part  of  revelation  pertains ;  and  as, 
in  his  capacity  of  the  revealer  and  at  the  same  time  the  object  of  truth,  he 
merits  the  implicit  confidence  of  all,  he  may,  by  a  union  of  various  figures 
of  speech,  be  called  the  truth  itself.  On  the  same  principle,  though  with  far 
less  propriety,  we  call  a  wise  man  wisdom  ;  and  a  foolish  man,  folly,  etc.  So 
Christ  is  called  the  way,  the  life,  the  resurrection,  etc. 


END. 


